Can t let go
by LadyRavenwing
Summary: She thought she could start a new life, make a clean cut and never look back. But fixing things is never easy... (Post season 3)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_It was fascinating how a change of scenery could mean a change of perspective. On things. On life… How all of a sudden things that she had never had the time or leisure to appreciate could become precious very quickly. Sunsets. Wind brushing through the palm trees. The soft rolling of waves against the beaches. Maybe it was a trick of the mind, a way her consciousness, always so fixed on fixing things and setting matters right, always so busy and occupied, latched on to these little precious things to not fall apart. But that not falling apart felt good. It gave peace. More so than she had ever thought possible._

_It was one of those evenings, night almost falling already, the sun almost set behind the darkening waves and she was walking along the paved promenade somewhere on Sicily, enjoying things she had never had the time or nerve to enjoy: the animated chatter of a few people playing checkers on the small wall that separated the cobble stone promenade from the sands, the soft strumming of a guitar, played by a 20something boy with ruffled hair who had a cap set out in front of him and that was admired by a few giggling teenagers in a safe distance, the cries of seagulls overhead. It was a peace she had never known yet often longed for. A peace she had never really thought was meant for her. For them. Surely never for them. But that was the past._

_She could feel the soft warm summer breeze brush the light fabric of her summer dress against her ankles as she walked along, lost in her own thoughts, her life in DC, all the hectic, all the drama, all the hurt, so far away, distant yet close, a cherished memory with a tinge of melancholy. It had been four years. Had she changed since then? Or was the old Olivia Pope just too hurt, had she just been too close to snapping apart, to coming undone so that she had retreated like she had to find some peace of mind? Thoughts like that had become rarer with time, giving way to a feeling of comfort. True comfort. Four years. A time that on that evening, in the warm sun as she strolled along seemed strangely blurred. Not important. Just the moment counting. _

_Therefore the sight of him should have come as more of a shock – maybe. It had been four years and then some, some months and summer was coming. He would be free to go where he wanted now, as free as he could be that was but she had not had expected… not planned… She slowed down. He did not even face her, but she was sure she would have recognized his silhouette anywhere, from almost any distance. He was near a small bridge, sitting in the sand, wearing casual pants, slightly rolled up and a half sleeve shirt. He must have missed that kind of casual attire in the years that now lay behind him. _

_She stopped in her tracks, just stood there. A family of four, chattering about the easy things of a summer vacation – ice cream and sandcastles and kittens in the sun – passed her by and for a fleeting moment melancholy hit her and the wish that she could have all that. Could have had. With him. For a moment she just stayed where she was, watching him. She had not seen him in years. Avoided his image on television even until she had reached a point where it had almost been easy for her to cheat herself into believing he was just a distant memory. A fling of the past. Of course, that was not true. _

_Without her doing almost she found herself approaching him. Reached an edge in the wall that separated the beach from the promenade, slipped off her sandals and stepped onto the still warm sand, shoes in one hand. It seemed not her own will but it came naturally, one step after the other, no hesitation. Had she really believed that she could stay away from him forever? That sooner or later, fate wouldn´t lead them back to one another? Step by step until her shadow crawled up his back, his head, then met the sand before him. He turned, blinked his eyes a bit against the sun. _

_He looked a lot, almost completely like she remembered him. Maybe his face was a bit more lined, surely his hair was a bit greyer. It was a known fact the presidency made men age before their time but he had made it through well. Two terms. He nearly looked the same. But she couldn´t tell about his eyes, somehow she couldn´t. The last time she had looked at him they had been darkened with grief for his son. How unfitting yet how very her to try and see if he was doing any better four years later. To try and see what of that grief lingered, or whether he had finally found some peace of mind, like she had._

_He looked at her, calmly. If he was surprised, he didn´t show. He was just there, one minute she had been taking just another walk at the beach, the other he was there. Like a ghost from a past life, but just like the evening sun his presence was…soothing. And the moment his eyes met hers to see who it was that was standing behind her, she felt things fall into place, she felt that she had missed him. So much. "Hey." He said. How she had missed his voice, she noticed suddenly. _

_Seconds passed. She didn´t count them and neither said another word, then, slowly, a smile formed on his face. A smile she hadn´t seen in a long long time. Warm. Fitz. Fitz when he was feeling perfectly at ease. "Have you ever dreamed of Vermont?" she asked. "That house?"_

_He seemed to consider it for a moment, still looking at her, then she could see his body heaving in a small sigh. "Yes." he said. "I´ve been dreaming of Vermont. And other places, Livvy. Just like you are. Right now."_

_Those four years they had been separated. They were blurry. And all of a sudden she knew why…because this wasn´t real. Not the beach. Not the sunset. Not this face she loved, slightly changed by the strain of another four years. Because those years had not passed yet._

There was no transition between dream and waking. The dream was just gone, he was just gone, one moment to the next and she found herself staring at a ceiling traced with the rays of an almost full moon. She stared at the window pattern for a minute or two. Well….twelve days, she thought. She had been able to lock him out of her thoughts for almost a fortnight. That was probably a personal record.


	2. Chapter 2 - Mockery

_Author´s note: Thank you very much for your likes, follows and reviews. :) They are very much appreciated. On we go. _

**Chapter 2 - Mockery**

There were a few things that he remembered with stunning clarity, no matter what amount of time had passed since then. Probably most people knew the feeling, remembering things down the smells and sounds, not just driftwood of what once was but an imprint of something that happened. Fitz was sure that the moment he had carried Jerry down those stairs down the podium had already turned into one of these memories, stuck forever in his mind with haunting, tormenting clarity. The flashlights flickering, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, the fabric of the boy´s clothes against his hands, the blood. The urgent yet calm words of his agents urging him to stay away from his own child in case the collapse had been caused by something contagious. They had not backed away under his glares, the desperation of a father but it had only been one of them that seemed to understand the full scope. He would probably be forever thankful for Tom Larsen. There had not been more than a curt nod of understanding and the man had let him carry his own son without further questioning. Not blocked his way. Not insisted on the usual safety protocol. Small blessings in a world of madness…

The sun was shining as they stood on the edge of the small cemetery. Why was the sun shining? It seemed like just another cruel jab of fate. Tragedy laughing in their faces. The beginning chills of winter, the last drifts of leaves had to be what they should contend themselves with, a meager display of nature at mirroring a couple parents grief over their oldest child.

There had not been much of a debate over the funeral. Not a big media event but a burial with closest friends and family only and even there it seemed they had become picky. Neither of them had wanted to turn this into a media event and whereas Fitz knew his wife had a reckless streak to her when it came to playing the media to their advantage, her advantage, it was good to see she had limits in that. But such thoughts didn´t matter. Not right now. No media. No cameras. Just them and a few more, less than a dozen all in all and the priest. After the insanity of the last few days this seemed the only right thing to do. His family had a burial site down in California. He had never had to think about these kinds of things but the issue had never come up. Burying his son, his very own son, next to his own father had been out of question.

There had been a eulogy. No pomp. No lies like back when Old Jerry had died. Just honest grief. It had been minutes ago but had anyone asked him about it, Fitz would not have been able to remember a single word of his own speech. Yet this was another of those carbon moments. This, right now. The cooling November wind against his cheek, his gaze fixed on the coffin and his wife who gave his hand a squeeze right before he stepped forward and picked up the shovel, the priest´s calm, floating words just another addition to the mockery of the skies…

"_Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand … For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you."_

He did not break down, his legs did not give way. That had come the night before. And the one before that. And that other night since then, when the cheers from other rooms of the West Wing had drifted into his office where he sat, cradled in his wife´s desperate grasp, his wife dialing a number that had never received an answer.

It seemed hours later, but could merely have been more than half an hour. The motorcade had been reduced, on his urgent insistence, to the very necessary core, the press corps had been left at the White House, the media as cut off and misled from information as was possible. Probably there were quite some down in California right now, waiting for a burial that would never take place, leering after pictures of a grieving president and First Lady they could sell off to the highest cutthroat bidder. It was almost strange to not be beleaguered by flashlights and cameras and microphones. The three black limousines parked near the entrance of the small DC cemetery they had chosen mostly because he knew Mellie would not be able to bear not visiting her son´s grave often, were hard to hide with just a few leaves left, but it had worked well enough. No reporters as far as he could tell and when they walked back, hand in hand as they had not done for so long, it gave him a soothing sense of peace.

They had almost reached the cars, their daughter as numb as them, petrified, unable to understand what was happening, clasping her mother´s hand, when Fitz saw him. He kept a respectful distance, near one of the trees yet within the Secret Service´s perimeter. For a moment, Fitz meant to just ignore the man, then he turned to Mellie, her face the mask it had been ever since …then. "I will be right back." He squeezed her hand, then let go and she let him. Did not ask any questions about the man who had been watching them, but just gave him a brief look over her shoulder when she continued her way to the car.

"I did not expect anybody to know about this." His voice sounded calm, but he found it dull. Devoid of emotion after there had been too much of it these past couple of days.

"That´s because nobody knows." Eli Pope met his eyes straight on. "We both know this is not the place for the mobs."

Fitz nodded. There was the briefest flicker of thought, whether he should ask. About her. He discarded it immediately. She had run off in the moment where he had needed her the most and either that meant she just didn´t care or her father had something to do with her disappearance which meant either way he would not get any information from the man.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh", Pope said. "I guess I just came here to tell you that, as a way of comfort, maybe, if that is even possible.

"It´s appreciated."

Her father nodded. "I hope I did not intrude, Mr President."

There was no shaking of hands, no more words than these. The other man just turned around and walked away. They had never been on good terms, naturally not, but in that moment Fitz felt the smallest feeling of gratefulness. Despite all the differences the man at least put up that kind of dignity. He had not been invited, but his brief visitation seemed like comfort. Almost.

He opened his mouth. _Where is she?_ He wanted to ask. Then he did and the other man turned.

"She took a plane." he said. "One I urged her to take a long time ago but she never did when I asked her. This, Mr President, I am not to be blamed for." And with that, the other man left, leaving the bitter taste of regret and shame. He had just buried his child for God´s sake. He should bury other things as well while he was at it instead of mocking his own son´s memory.


	3. Chapter 3 - Running away

**Chapter 3 – Running away**

The young man in front of her looked clean cut, smart, European. Liv had taken from his resumée that he had studied law in Berlin and worked as an aide at the European court in Brussels before "looking for new challenges" as he had put it in the interview she was just concluding. Alex Leeman, 33, excellent resumée, good court record, lauded by a few influential people with connection to various governments and big names. He was perfect for this place. And yet there was something missing. And she knew this something was the fact that he was not Harrison or Amy or any of the others. Not a gladiator. And the fact that this was not OPA. Never would be, never would be again. There was a shiny bronze sign on the front door to that old yet fancy building in the best business district of Vienna, there had apparently been no expenses spared in furnishing the office rooms to her liking – modern and simple yet with a sense for style – but it was… different.

"Well," she said, uncrossing her legs and closing the application folder that was on the dark wood desk in front of her. "I am very impressed Mr Leeman, you will hear from me very shortly, thanks for making time."

"I am the one who has to thank you for taking it." His smile was just as charming as the rest of him. A good guy. Maybe, back then, she might have considered him a good addition to her gladiators. But those times, too, were over. Off to a fresh new start, no matter how much she could hear the hinges of that brand new machine grind and screech.

He got up, she did as well. They shook hands and he left. He was the third and when he left, Olivia was not sure whether she would call him. She knew she should, she´d need two people, maybe three. Heck, she knew how to start off a successful office of her own.

She reached for the resumée again. Perfect. Nice. Just like the new bronze sign. Just like the new fancy name in her passport. Carolyne Bishop. Her father was showing some interesting humour there. Using her middle name made sense, it was something she would get used to more easily than using a completely new one. Her new last name however seemed like a symbol. Stepping down from the high ground, retiring from the high ranks of power. Not a pope, but a bishop. Not in the front lines of power any more, but tucked away. Hopefully safe. She wasn´t sure she liked it. Maybe she never would. But sometimes it was maybe better to try and get along with decisions, make grown up decisions because in the end at least that kind of safety would stop her from getting hurt all over again. It had been two weeks. Maybe things just needed time. Wounds needed time to heal, didn´t they?

"Not sure if I´m comfortable to see you in the company of handsome men any more."

"Well, I guess you´ll have to, Jake. I can´t handle this place on my own and I don´t want to, either."

He was standing in the door frame to her office, carrying a stack of papers, watching her for a moment, before he pushed himself off casually, walked over and placed the papers on her desk. Mail. Adressed to her new alias. More applications, she guessed. A little paperwork. She reached for it, browsed through it. The mild, nostalgic feeling of disappointment was familiar by now. Of course she couldn´t hope for…

If he caught that brief, sad glance and she guessed he did, he didn´t comment on it.

"Did you decide on an associate already?" In this moment it sounded as if his question was meant to distract her from her thoughts.

She looked up. "Yes…No…Maybe. The one who was just here was promising. Him I guess or maybe the woman from yesterday morning. Maybe both. I´ll have to see how much work is getting in. Whether I even need them both."

A raise of eyebrows and small smile. "You don´t really doubt that, do you? There are strings that can be pulled, already have been pulled. Soon as this place is open for business, you will not have any starter problems. Your reputation is already out there, carefully placed by the right people."

"Because my father would not gladly see me off into exile only to then see me starve?" Her words sounded a little sharp.

"Because he has no interest in personal failure and letting that happen to you would reflect badly on his pride."

"He´s thousands of miles away and you still keep talking like this."

"He could be even further away and I´d still be worried."

She cocked her head to the side a bit, almost angrily.

"It´s a fresh start, we both knew it would be." he continued.

"It should be." she said curtly, picking up the folder on her desk and moving towards the door. He probably didn´t deserve that treatment. She didn´t feel like arguing but she could tell she was on edge. She even knew why. But the answer to that was one of the things she had left behind, tucked away in a chest to be stored in the most hidden corners of herself, the same chest that held unrealistic talks of marmalade jars and memories of that house in Vermont.

His hand moved out against the door frame, blocking her way, causing him to glare at her. "Jake…"

His smile was gentle, his eyes worried but with a small glimmer of annoyance. Of hurt. "I think we both knew it would not be easy, didn´t we?" His words were almost a whisper. "You ran Liv, you already ran. Stop running now. And stop looking back." She had decided this. She had decided it on her own. To turn her back on her old life and leave everything behind. Make a clean cut. But that wasn´t easy, not at all and she hated that it was hard.

She could feel a lump in her throat, a feeling that felt both uncomfortable and familiar. She avoided his gaze. "Jake, I don´t want to…"

"…talk about this." he completed her sentence. She didn´t like his uncanny ability to do that sometimes. Never with the same certainty as… well, he still could. Jake knew her better than she liked. Because she had let him close, had turned to him to soothe her wounds a few times too often. Was doing so even now only to push him away again. He raised a hand, cupped her chin. "We´ve been through this, Liv," he said, his voice still low. "We ran away. The two of us. And now we´re here." A little pressure to his fingers and she felt herself looking up at him, knowing that right now her chaos of emotions was probably clearly written on her face. "No more running. No more looking back." When he leaned in she did not move away and when she felt his lips gently brush against hers before becoming more urgent, she let herself fall. It felt right. It felt wrong. It felt like her only option. And maybe that option was not the worst she had ever chosen.

_**Later:**_

It was time to return to their apartment, a cozy place that strangely felt like home yet wasn´t, similar to this office. Olivia didn´t know how much time had passed since Leeman had left as she ran a hand through her hair, stepping into the corridor. The resumes were all in her main office, she would take them, get them home. Jake was … somewhere. A phone call he said. She wondered whether she was the only one breaking habits or whether he was following an own agenda, not completely breaking ties. Her eyes had asked that, his had dismissed the accusation. Not right now she thought. Not right now. Not tonight. Tonight felt…okay. Tonight didn´t hurt as much.

The sun was about to set. Days were short this time of the year, no matter where they were it seemed. The sun was low even though it was still later afternoon, shining deep orange rays into the hallway. A few of the boxes were still unpacked. New things, not really anything she had brought. A complete, brand new start. Tabula rasa. A white board. Maybe a good time to don that white head again and start anew. Even with new boxes, new pencils and new folders. Could she see the thinnest veil of dust on those boxes she wondered briefly? Had they gathered dust as in had they been sitting here for a while , awaiting her maybe inevitable exile? She halted for a moment, wondering. It was just the boxes there, new, clean, those and Jake´s coat and hers, hung more or less neatly. And then she saw it:

Later it would strike her as odd that she had found it that easily, that he had not hidden it at once. He was Command,…had been. He had experience in hiding things, keeping things secret. Blatant envelopes sticking from coat pockets for her to be spotted easily was not his style, Jake was not that careless. Anyways, there it was, in plain sight, making her wonder what secrets he might keep from her. Possibly he had not thought they´d stay. He had maybe planned to just poke his head in and give her the mail, had taken this very envelope, pre-sorted her mail and kept that one away from her deliberately. Not planning to stay but knowing he´d get back to this hallway and leave, maybe Jake had planned on just telling her he´d go "home" already, maybe order some food, tell her to not stay long. No, she would think later, Jake had certainly had no intent on things going the way they now went. In his version of events, he would tuck the envelop away and destroy it, so she´d never find it. So she´d never see what it contained.

She walked over to the coat, her hands reaching out, picking the envelope from the pocket. It seemed so out of place yet so guiltily tucked away that she immediately knew it was meant for her eyes originally. She turned it, discovering he had already opened it. It was mail paper brown, a bit larger than regular size, half that of a paper sheet, a bit strengthened, maybe that was why it had been a bit difficult to easily conceal it in a hallway that so far had no real hiding places. When she turned it around, she found no sender. Turning it again she found her address. The fake name one, with one difference: It was not addressed to "Carolyne Bishop" but to "Carolyne O. Biship." O. Olivia. The sender was someone who knew who she was. Who she had been.

Only then, only when she had realized that, not able to sort in the neat, clear handwriting though, she reached into it. Took out what it contained, feeling instantly it was no regular paper, no letter. It was a small stack of photos. The kind that one sees in boulevard magazines. Shots taken from secret corners and from behind bushes. And when she saw what they showed, she could feel her heart beat. Slowly. Painfully.

She had seen no such photos in the press. No such photos had gone around the world because they surely would have gone viral. Any magazine, any newspaper, American or international would have paid a fortune for these pictures, any semi corrupt reporter would have given a right arm to have them and sell them. But there had been no such pictures. The press has been distracted from the funeral and it had been held in quiet on a cemetery in DC. The White House had shielded them to avoid them. At least, so it had seemed.

It was depressing, hurtful, the most painful images she had ever seen of him. The first picture must have been taken from a distance but with a large zoom because she could see each line of his face clearly, his head bent, his eyes dark with grief, the lines of his face, his mouth set in firm pain as he was trying not to cry. Again. His hand holding that of his wife.

She swallowed, turning to the next picture. In that one, Fitz had stepped closer to the grave, his hair untidy from the wind as he was clutching on to the shovel that had just heaped the first bit of dirt onto the coffin that was veiled from her view. Burrying his own child. The look on his face…

_Stop, _something told her. _Stop. Don´t do this to yourself. But these pictures ... they were addressed to her, were they not? How dare he? How dare he try and keep them from her? How dare he keep Fitz from her? _She knew those thoughts were dangerously irrational because she herself had decided to keep herself away. She was the problem that needed fixing, but It was already too late. All the pain, all of a sudden it was back. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she turned to the third photo. His head was turned to the side, giving her a full edge view on his profile. Just that. A zoom in. Close up on the pain. She had never seen him like this before. He seemed incredibly vulnerable…

_Someone knows where you are, she thought. Someone wants you to have these. Someone is tormenting you._ Reasonable thoughts, but they barely echoed in her mind. Only pain. Longing. How she missed him…

She felt her knees give way as she slowly sunk to the ground, the pictures clutched in her right hand.

**Thanks for the review, the likes, the hits. Love following the statistics on this and they´re going fast. It´s highly appreciated so if you can find the time, drop a line. It won´t take long at all and means a lot. Hope you keep enjoying this. :)**


	4. Chapter 4 - Fake

**Thanks for the likes and reviews once again. I´m glad you guys enjoy reading this little story. :)**

**Addie: Thanks for dropping a line. Here you go. :)**

**Casbru: Glad you like it. This story is definitely going to be Olitz, but I wanted to write a direct continuation to the end of season 3 so naturally Jake would be in the picture first of all. Hope you can bear with that, because suddenly having him gone would make no sense to me. **

**LoreneMichelle41: I feel sorry for them, too. :( they both can be rather stubborn but I am positive they´ll work through that eventually ;)**

**Chapter 4 - Fake**

She could not have been sitting on the floor for more than a few seconds maybe, even though she felt so numb that her senses might deceive her as she sat there, the photos still clutched in her hand, unable to tear her gaze off the pained, grieving face that she had never stopped loving. But when she heard his footsteps, no more than a few moments could have passed.

"Liv."

"Don´t."

Her voice sounded sharp, more steady than she thought it would but that was only for the better.

She could hear him stop where Jake was standing, a few paces off. She did not look up, feeling anger rise inside her so powerfully that she didn´t know entirely where such a strong feeling came from all of a sudden. But if she was honest to herself, she knew full well. She was looking at what she had been running from but that had been her choice. Not a choice others had made for her.

"You were trying to hide this from me."

Again he didn´t move and took his time to reply. "Liv. You were hiding this yourself." Now he did get closer. Carefully as she could tell from the corner of her eyes and all of a sudden that annoyed her even more. "The way you stay away from news, from papers, from everything. You think I didn´t see how you avoided TV and the internet, how you tried to not get into contact about anything that happened after we left? I was just doing what you were doing."

She looked up at him. "I choose to avoid that. But this is addressed to me." She wanted to fling the envelope and pictures away from her, to the ground but found she couldn´t. Ever since she had come here she had avoided everything Fitz, and she perfectly well knew why. She was addicted to him, just like he was to her and the tiniest amount of exposure to knowing how he was doing how he was… suffering would cause withdrawals and right here she was experiencing just that. And it angered her. She was a rational person. She knew how things worked, how problems were fixed. Why wasn´t it easier or at least manageable to handle issues of her own? Why wasn´t it easier to fix herself? He looked so tired…so alone…

Jake crouched down in front of her, the light behind him, his shape showing against the evening sun starkly. Looking back at him she felt emotions battle inside her.

"And see what it has done to you." he stated in a calm voice, that same calm voice he always used when he felt he was in the right, when he knew he was talking sense. She stared right back at him before avoiding her gaze.

"Remember what you did?" he went on. "You got on that plane, Liv. You….we decided to leave all of this behind you. Remember that phone call before we took off that you did not take? That was a decision Liv and it was a good one."

She wanted to snap at him but it was a whole more difficult if that meant snapping at herself because that would be what it was. He was merely a reflection of her own deeds, showing her a mirror of what she had done when she had left the States behind to start … something new that she had not even begun to define and that right now in this sunlit corridor that could seem so warm and perfect seemed like a façade, like make belief, a game that lacked authenticity because it was not her. It was her trying to be someone else. Because she was the scandal, she was the problem that needed to be handled.

She got to her feet, suddenly unable to bear that she was sitting there on the ground, vulnerable. He wanted to assist her get up but backed away at the glare she shot him. "This was MY decision Jake. This is MY life. I decided to come here because I was sick and tired of people telling me what to do and not to do, because I was tired of seeing my world crumble because of the things I did and the things I cannot even be held responsible for." Her voice rose with every sentence and she felt how she was about to talk herself into a rage. From calm to angry, just like that. It told her a lot about what her attempt at trying to keep herself away from everything had done to her. Withdrawals…

"Well whoever is sending this to you is clearly trying to get you involved again, Liv." His voice sounded more firm now, too. "Whoever this person is, is doing just what you decided you don´t want any more. They´re trying to make you come back, don´t you see that?"

For a moment she was wondering if he was right and it struck her that if one looked at it from this angle, it made a lot of sense. Why send her these pictures? To make her feel bad? Or to manipulate her.

"I cannot imagine who would know this address." she said. "unless there are people involved that are very high up the ranks and who have access to a lot more than we think they have." Her voice still sounded angry. Who could it be she wondered. And wasn´t it a sign of how sick and twisted her world, her life had become that the first two people who came to her mind were her parents? Her father? Surely not, she decided. He had no interest in having her back in Washington. All he had ever wanted was to get her out of there, but she had believed him to be the only person to know about her new identity. After all, he had fabricated it for her.

"What does it matter?" he asked, raising his hands in a gesture of slight helplessness, before stepping forward, only an inch away from reaching out for her to touch her. "Liv. Let´s just not think about it."

"And do what?" she asked. "just live with the awkward feeling that someone knows where I am?"

"That´s not what you´re worried about." he gave back, not giving an answer to her previous question. "It´s not what´s on your mind right now, Liv and that´s exactly the reason why you need to continue what you started. Because it takes no more than a few photographs to hurt you and I cannot see you hurt like this."

She gave a short, joyless laugh.

"What?"

"Oh, don´t get this conversation started, Jake. You´re far too tangled up in all the things I´ve been through to claim you have nothing but my best interest at heart."

"I´m here with you now, am I not? I left everything behind, just like you. And that even though you tell me you love another man. Doesn´t that tell you enough about where my priorities are?"

She didn´t want to argue. Right now there was just one thing she wanted and she knew that this was the very one thing she mustn´t do and couldn´t have.

"I…I don´t want to talk about this, Jake." she said, starting to back away and go…where? She just wanted to leave this office, this place that was a mere attempt at imitating the halls she was so used to, a meager copy of all OPA had ever been to go…to that apartment she currently shared with him? There really was no escaping this pretty new life, was there?

"Where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air." She grabbed her white coat and put it on, stuffing the envelope addressed to her in her handbag

"Do you want me to…"

"No." She turned around. "Right now I don´t want anything, Jake, I just want to be on my own and you might want to wonder why."

She walked towards the door, briskly and half expected him to hurry after her. He didn´t.

"Promise me to not call him, Liv."

She halted in her steps.

What was she even thinking, she wondered as she turned around, taking a deep breath. The swirling chaos in her mind was unsettling. It had been all so clear on those first few hours on the plane, things had worked out so well and there he was, Fitz, a few pictures, and she was back in the midst of a tornado that was her life. A life she was trying to escape.

"I won´t promise anything, Jake." she stated. "I just… I don´t even know where I´m at. All of this. I´m trying to start again from a clean slate and … it´s as if everything just feels fake. This is not home. This is not my life." She could feel a lump form in her throat.

"Just half an hour ago," he stated bluntly in a way that she could not cope with right now. "it didn´t feel like you faked anything at all."

She stared at him, incredulous of how insensitive he was being right now and left, before she could think twice about not slapping him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She had just followed where her feet had carried her and in the end she had found herself on a park bench on some patch of green near the parliament building of Vienna, looking over to the impressive structure that, with its white marble columns and its architecture looked eerily familiar. In the end her feet had guided her to a place that at least looked a little bit like home but felt just as out of place as anything else.

She had not taken the photos out again but with her hands clutched around her bag she believed she could almost feel them, remembering vividly what they showed. The pain on his face… There were a million reasons why she should burn these photos and forget they had ever been sent to her and yet ever since she had seen her she could not get that look in his eyes out of her head. She full well knew that whoever had sent her these had probably intended that, to torment her or for some unknown ends but that didn´t change how she felt.

She had not allowed herself to think about him. It had been hard and in the end she knew she was only lying to herself but what she had denied and shut away in a remote corner of her soul was surfacing with all its power now, making her wonder what he was doing, how he was doing, whether he was holding up. If it had been him calling her when she had gotten on that plane or someone else to merely inform her that they had won the election after all. She had pretended not to care back then but of course she did. He was more vulnerable, more sensitive than he let show to the outside world. Always charming, sometimes grumpily reclusive she had learned to read him as well as he was able to read her. Had it been wrong to leave? There was no simple answer to that. Only a rational one. No. In that moment, with him grieving the death of his child it had been best for her, to leave. It was not her place to be part of that. It all led down to her and he needed to get his life fixed just like she did. And as much as it hurt he could only get it fixed with her no longer in the picture. It hurt, it hurt worse than anything, but it was the only reasonable thing to do.

It wasn´t like she hadn´t been over these thoughts before in the previous hours but they had been stuck in a circle she noticed. Her reason was fighting a battle against her emotions, trying to keep her strong, to convince her that whatever she felt like doing was the wrong way and would only increase the pain. She was very aware of her cell phone in her handbag and the wish to take it out, to dial the number she knew by heart and that just few people on the entire planet had access to, was almost overwhelming. She resisted the urge for the uptenth time, wondering whether it was time to go home, finding herself unable to think that thought without it leaving a bad, fake aftertaste.

Dusk had been settling in when she had left the office, by now it was completely dark and when she finally got up to hail a taxi to take her to her apartment, a slight cold November drizzle had started, oddly reflecting her mood. This time of the evening the city was still fairly busy, but a taxi halted instantly as if fate was trying desperately to usher her away from temptations. "Wohin soll´s gehn?" the cab driver asked. She knew what it meant even though she had never learned to speak German. Maybe she should if she was really planning to stay here. But was she?

She was about to reply to the driver, but then didn´t. "Hallo?" the man sounded busy, somewhat impatient, but she barely heard him. She had spotted something and it seemed a thing she could not escape. "Sorry." she told him. "I…I need another moment, Sir. I apologize." Shaking his head at her indecisiveness while standing in the rain, the taxi driver rolled up the window and the car left, leaving her in the night. She was still staring at what had drawn her attention and then, step by step she felt herself walk towards it. She had told herself that her cell phone was off limits, that she could not, would not use it to dial that number ever again, but a public phone. She just needed to make sure, just had to hear…

It seemed like she had no say in her doing. It wasn´t even a booth, it was a phone pole that gave no privacy but the rain that currently kept people away or made them hurry again and she ducked under the small roof it provided to at least escape the rain a bit. A passer by gave her a strange look that might have meant worry. She noticed that as he walked by, then, without noticing it really, grabbed the receiver.

There was no hesitation in her dialing, she had known the number by heart for a long while and attempts to forget it were as useless as it had been to smash her phone a long while back in the vain attempt to sever ties. Additions were not easily handled…

The moment that it took for the connection to be established she almost prayed the line would be busy, but it wasn´t. Three, four signals, then there was a clicking sound on the other end.

"Hello?"

She closed her eyes, felt that this single word let her mind go blank at the same time rendered her incapable of a reply. Standing there in the rain, using a public phone to stay anonymous, but who was she kidding. There were not many people in the world that had this number.

"Hello?" Another pause on the other end, his deep baritone perking up questioningly. How she had missed that voice. How she would always miss it.

The pause before the next word was excruciatingly long and for a moment, in her speechlessness, her throat cutting off her own words even though she tried once or twice to reply, to respond, she feared for a moment he would hang up. Then Fitz said her name.

"Liv?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Confrontations

**Author´s note: Thanks again for the likes and reviews old and new. **

**ShaunV76: Aw, I always like to hear that my writing evokes emotions. :) Hope you´ll keep enjoying it.**

**LoreneMichelle41: Love your analysis there and I absolutely agree. He´s acid for her right now, manipulative on a subtle yet very dangerous level. **

**Aunt Dee94: Thank you for your feedback:**

**The guest reviewers: I stated at the beginning of the last chapter already that this is going to be an Olitz centred story, but that since I started off right after the end of season two, Jake is necessarily in the picture right now. I appreciate feedback, I do not appreciate pressure. I´m an Olitz fan myself and this IS an Olitz story, but while I appreciate reviews very much, telling me your reading depends on me getting rid of Jake I can just say: read it or don´t, it´s up to you. However, I hope you´ll stay put, but please leave such decisions to me. Thanks. **

**Chapter 5 - Confrontations**

**Shortly before:**

„The intelligence reports we receive from the Bagdhad area are disquieting to say the least. According to what the Iraquis tell us, the situation may be more urgent in the city´s vicinity. There have been reports of ISIS activity in the north east along the Diyala river, there are some that report camps and we should not take these reports lightly, Mr President."

"What about our own sources? I sure hope Iraqi intelligence isn´t the only factor I´m supposed to base my judgement on."

If the slightly biting tone of his Commander in Chief annoyed or irritated him, the man across him on the other side of the table didn´t move a muscle. "Our own channels are even more clear on this, Sir." He responded in the same calm yet authoritarian tone. "Clear activities in the north, but if we paint a worst case scenario, there is the obvious threat of the city being closed in all too soon, because there is movement in other directions as well. They´re not exactly hiding what they´re doing right now."

Fitz leant back, briefly casting his eyes across the roundabout a dozen pair of eyes that were focused on him across the situation room. He felt exhausted. With everything. Having to attend to an issue as vital to national security as this did not help elevate that state.

"What is your suggested plan of action at this point Mr Chairman?"

"We have detailed plans of their activities, Sir." The man with the salt and pepper hair and a chest full of badges leant forward and gave a motion with his head which made an aide change the projection on the wall to a shot taken by an unmanned drone – the area around Baghdad, then a zoom in. "Our intelligence did an excellent job. We know where their heads are or at least we have very good guesses on the top two. One clean, swift air strike and we can make them stumble in their momentum in a way that might very well help us get control of the situation and support the Iraqui government in their attempts to push back against ISIS, as we already agreed." The last few words sounded slightly annoyed or was he just imagining it?

Fitz raised his eyebrows. "I believe that I am not the only one in this room not instantly comfortable with this idea." he said. "How can we make sure the information we have is evidence enough? Can we be certain the locations we believe to be crucial are no ruse or false track?"

A small pause while the other man almost pursed his lips in irritation. "We are as safe as we can be, Mr President. This plan of action was developed based on the meeting in this very room at 1700 yesterday."

It was a rebuke, as obvious as it could get, as much as this high ranking military dared and he could tell there was a feelable tension in the air. All of a sudden it annoyed him in a way that didn´t seem rational.

"Tell me again why getting involved in this mess is a good idea." he said after a moment´s consideration. Again, he could tell from his own tone that he was not as level headed as he should be when in this room and caught a few glances being exchanged. Probably that sort of resistance had not been expected by his Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"With all due respect Mr President, I thought we had agreed on the necessity of our involvement. There are a range of limited military option that we can choose from right now, but it´s hard to tell how long these windows will still be open to us. We should not wait too long."

"What about our connections to the Iraquis? How quickly can we make the call?"

"The question is, Mr President, to what extent we involve the local authorities in the final steps of this. We do now know their channels well enough, communicating our strategies at length might limit our chances for success."

"You are saying I should order an air strike without informing them?"

"I am saying there have been communications, there has been a call, Mr President in which you personally informed the Iraqi president of the possibility of our stepping in. To which the Iraquis agreed, which they even welcomed." Sometimes Fitz wondered to what extent his mere title protected him from this man´s anger. "And that phone call was hard to get. I am not willing to jeopardize the ground we made in this fragile alliance."

"With all due respect, Sir, they are the receiving end of this alliance, they need us, not we them." Fitz did notice the very subtle change from his title to "Sir" that the other man no doubt used as a slight, childish form of expressing his annoyance. He ignored it and straightened up. "I want a phone call set up with the Iraqui president," he said. "and until then the options of an airstrike will be put on hold."

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff relaxed visibly in his seat at first but his eyes remained alert, before he tensed up again. "We could strike tonight." he said urgently. "The U.S.S. George H. Bush is still on its location. We could strike on their camp north of Baghdad and another south of it a little further off. No risk of American casualty, no boots on the ground necessary. With all due respect, it´s usually the democrats´ job to be timid and indecisive on such urgent matters."

Everyone in the room knew that just then, exactly these words meant the general had overstepped a line and it became more obvious when Fitz rose to his feet, propping his palms on the smooth surface of the conference table, leaning forward ever so slightly. He was mad at himself for it, knowing that what he was doing right now was very close to a primitive gesture of intimidation. "There is a difference between consideration and overly quick calls, general." he said, likewise downgrading the other man to his more inofficial title. "There is a difference between military effectiveness and lightly risking lives."

Suddenly the room had fallen silent, silent enough for people to hear a pin drop and for a moment, the other man just stared back, then he rose himself. "There is also a difference between matters personal and professional." he said, his voice a menacing tone that Fitz knew had his secret service agents on alert and several of his advisorss in the room hold their breath. He could feel a sudden rush of adrenaline. "A sudden deviation from an already settled plan is exactly what would make us look weak, Sir." The last word almost sounded insulting.

"This _is_ professional." Fitz replied, his tone flat, almost acid. "if you´re suggesting it is not I would urge you to stop this discussion right now."

"I am merely suggesting, Mr President, that your judgment might be clouded. And we know the reason why."

He slammed his hand flat on the table, feeling in a right mind to punch the other man right in the face. How dare he? How dare he bring up personal matter like that? It was obvious what the general was implying. That he was not fit to decide on matters like this while he was still grieving over his son. That he was supposed to just work in line of what his Joint Chiefs deemed best because he himself was handicapped that way right now. "Cyrus." he bellowed, shooting the general a last look that would make most people shrink into intimidation. "Set up that goddamn call."

He could hear murmurs erupt from the table as they rose as one, irritated, bewildered as their Commander in Chief left the room, his advisors and agents in tow. Cyrus followed him, obviously distressed.

"Mr President…"

"Not now, Cyrus. Get me the Iraqui president on line."

"Sir… I do not think that right now."

He stopped and turned. "Cyrus…"

Cyrus glanced around, gave the advisors a nod and his people hurried along, obviously relieved to be allowed to escape the situation while Cyrus walked on for a few paces and then turned right, opening a door. There was no office behind it, just an administrational room, storage. Pipes for the AC and security systems. How fitting that his Chief of Staff found it so necessary to isolate him from other people that he´d just take the next room possible.

He closed the door with a bang.

"That was unnecessary."

Fitz whirled around. "He was attacking me personally, Cyrus and this was completely out of line."

"That´s not what I mean." the other man gave back. "You know what I mean."

Fitz felt like pacing, adrenaline and pulse still high. When Cyrus spoke again, his voice had softened.

"When you are in this room, Mr President, and I am talking as your advisor and your friend, you need to leave tempers behind. You need to leave behind what wears you down. Everyone can understand what you must be going through but when it comes to this room, the decisions that need to be made there, you need your head. You need to be rational."

He felt angry, maybe because of Cyrus´ calm. "Don´t give me that bull, Cyrus. I´m fed up with the belittling. With the looks I get from the press when I look too tired and all the fake pity and the veiled questions."

"We both know it´s not just Jerry who upsets you this."

"Not JUST Jerry, Cy? For God´s sake, Cy, not JUST? I buried my child and that´s not enough reason to upset me?" He wanted to scream, partly because he knew that Cyrus was right. And that made him hate himself even more.

There was a pause, an awkward pause. Those didn´t happen often between the two of them and this silence right now was loaded with tension.

"She never answered the phone." he bit back after a moment. "Not once. So yes, Cy, it is JUST my son that makes me rethink whether or not I should issue an airstrike that might or might not take the lives of people, children included. Other mothers´ and fathers´ children who have no part in the policics of their parents."

Half truths and he knew it, but there was no way past them. The full truth hurt just too much. The full truth meant to stop functioning, to just crumble back on the carpet in the Oval, wishing to get drunk and forget. The full truth meant understanding, realizing and accepting that it was not just Jerry, his own son who was gone. But so was she. She had disappeared, just like that. Gone from his life, just like his child.

Cy didn´t reply to that and that felt like bitter victory. "Set up the call," Fitz said once more. "As soon as possible, Cy." Then he stepped past his old friend and left the room.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Back in the Oval Office he was told a few minutes later than the call might be scheduled for later this afternoon and he was willing to allow the necessary protocol. His more conscious, more rational self understood that there were things like that in place, that a faint, careful alliance needed time to grow, needed precautions, but on days like these he just wished to abandon this rational side of him all together, while at the same time like he welcomed the fact that it protected him from himself and his own dark thoughts. The pain. Because sitting behind the large desk, feeling another headache come on, he noticed that this rationality had served him well all morning until that outburst where the protective cocoon of a lack of emotions had crumbled to pieces. Now that it had, he felt emotionally drenched and he also noticed that he felt weak, dizzy, because he had not eaten all day and it was already past noon, around 2 pm as a glance at the large wooden clock to his right told him. Fitz sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It seemed awfully early for Scotch…

When his cell phone rang, the possibility that it could be her on the other end didn´t even cross his mind. He had effectively pushed her back behind the wall fencing his feelings again, at the cost of losing his nerve in front of his most high ranking military advisors but she was neatly tucked back behind that wall. So neatly he expected the caller to be Cyrus. Maybe Mellie. He wasn´t sure he could deal with her right now, but the desperate sudden urge to hear a voice, any voice, made him reach for his phone. An unknown number. He scowled, considered for a moment, not to answer it, full aware that the number was known to a few only and that there was a reason for that. Security reasons. But then he did answer it.

"Hello." Not a question, more like a statement. His voice was sounding flat, he could tell.

He was met with silence. Some background noise he could not identify at first, but nobody replying to him directly. Just silence. He scowled. "Hello?" Again, nothing. Just silence and then piece by piece his mind set together, tried to puzzle together the background noise. Cars? Possibly rain? He could feel his body start to tingle with realization; he felt his mouth go dry, all of a sudden. _She never answered the phone _he recalled himself yelling earlier. _Not once_. Yet, he suddenly, violently felt his soul yearn, reach out for the possibility, the slim chance… He knew he was taking risks. This could be anybody. But that was not what his overtaxed soul told him. He paused. Knew he should hang up. This could be anyone. But he couldn´t. He couldn´t hang up, his hands, his fingers would not obey, his very being instead clutching desperately at the possibility.

He opened his mouth, closed it. Then:

"Liv?"

The pause following that was excruciatingly long. Just the faint sound of a car honking somewhere, the drizzling sound of something he guessed was rain. But just background noise. He tried again.

"Livvie? Is that you?"

She would hang up, he just knew it. He was convinced of it with a fatalist certainty that was clouding his mind and suffocating him. But she didn´t. After those many attempts to call her, after the desperation, the anger, the longing, she didn´t.

"Hey."

It was enough to nearly choke him up. He closed his eyes, feeling his breath threatening to hitch in his throat. "Where are you, Livvie?" His words were hurried as if he was scared she´d hang up after all, even after she had allowed him to know it was indeed and truly her on the other end. "Where are you now?"

Another pause. Then:

"I needed to hear your voice."

She sounded sad. She sounded so sad and pained that he felt a sudden, fierce hatred towards himself at knowing the cause for this pain was likely him.

"It´s so good to hear yours."

There were long pauses between their sentences, no imminent threat of either ending the call any more, he somehow felt that, but both of them savoring the mere presence of the other, however far away. "Where are you, Livvie?"

There were so many things to ask but he found himself incapable of asking them, fearing that any accusation, any bad word would chase her away. She barely seemed real to him now, yet nothing had felt as real to him all day.

"I…" she was clearly hesitant to tell him and he guessed there were a million reasons for this. "I…left the States."

"I know." he gave back, his voice almost a whisper. He felt so alone all of a sudden, the emptiness of his office screaming at him almost physically. "Come back to me, Livvie." He was clutching the phone, leaning forward, resisting the overwhelming urge to just lean his head flat on the desk, imagining her caressing hand soothingly go through his hair. "I need you."

Another pause before she spoke, her voice shaken. "I needed … to get away Fitz."

"Why?" He knew it was a stupid question, probably with an answer far too complex to even consider a halfway logical answer right now.

"For your own sake…" There was quite some background noise but he could clearly make out her voice as if he was subconsciously filtering the sounds. He sighed.

"Listen to me…" he then said. "Just listen. Where ever you are, Livvie." He could feel tears start stinging in his eyes. "I need you. Needed you. Still do. I am hanging by the edges of my sanity that you want to protect. I…I am not complete without you, Livvie. I am not sane without you."

He believed to hear a sound not unlike a sniffle on the other end and it nearly brought him to tears himself. He had always hated to see her cry, even though sometimes, oh, often, her anger had fuelled his own. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to tell her how betrayed he had felt, how alone when she had stopped answering calls, when she had just disappeared from his life, from everything. That he had felt she had abandoned him on some own selfish mission after they had had a sad but good phone call hours earlier. But he couldn´t. Because in the end that didn´t matter. In the end what mattered was what he had just told her. What she already knew. That he was not sane without her. Not complete without her.

"I am in Vienna."

He suddenly felt himself smile. A small smile, but it made him realize that he hadn´t smiled for a long time. Not since that night… "A beautiful city." he said.

"it´s raining." she gave back and his smile broadened because of the randomness of their conversation.

"And you´re standing in the rain."

"I wanted to stand in the sun."

That sentence didn´t make much sense to him but he let it slide, whatever it may mean. "Livvie? I love you."

The break that ensued was the most tormenting of all. "I love you, too." She gave back. "I love you too" And by then he could tell she was crying.

"Come back, Livvie. Please. Whatever made you leave, we will work it out. I need you here. I´m falling apart."

There was some murmuring in the background, another person speaking. "Who was that?" A sad chuckle. "Just an old lady." She said. "Giving me advice…" He had to smile once more. "Please tell me you´re coming back. That this is why you´re calling."

Another sniffle. "I need to think, Fitz." she.

"Okay." Of course it wasn´t.

"I still have your phone."

"Good."

"Can you call me tonight?" She sounded forlorn. As lost as he felt himself.

He closed his eyes. "Yes." he said. "I will."

And with that, the connection was broken.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Note: I am basing the first part of this chapter on some actual events, the current crisis in Iraq to flesh out the story because I like a realistic feel to the political backgrounds and because I believe it makes Fitz´ emotional state more obvious. I have no fixed "history" here, but assume that in Scandal reality 9/11 and the Iraq War happened in some way as well, leaving Iraq in a similar state to the one it is in now, but since Fitz is a Republican I was trying to give him a slightly different and more clear statement on how he might respond to ISIS (if he wasn´t shaken by doubts because of his obvious emotional state that is). If there are inaccuracies in the logic of this, I apologize but believe some of that has to be up to the imagination. :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Secrets

**Author´s note: Wow, thank you so much for the overwhelming feedback. I´d like to briefly comment on each of your reviews, but since many are guest reviews, I hope the people this concerns will be able to find a reply to theirs. :) I will be doing this in chronological order, maybe that helps. Btw, I really like giving personal remarks on the reviews, just to say thanks often or to answer questions and comment etc. so if you want to make it easier if you leave a review as a guest add a name so you´ll be able to find your personal response more easily. :) That´s not a must of course. **

**Guest: (On season 4) Thank you. It´s the effect I am trying to aim at, I want to make it sound and feel natural, like a natural continuation of the show. Thanks for the compliment. :)**

**Guest (real life events) That´s part of the fascination of this fandom to me and I´ll keep doing this, mingling real life events with the romance story. I find American politics interesting and think it would be a waste to not use things like this to give the story more substance. Also, to me, Fitz becomes a more logical character with it, because I think only when considering and putting a spotlight on what insane job a president really has it becomes logical why he sometimes reacts emotionally like he does or shows signs of being on the edge, possibly also due to stress. Plus, I just find things like that fascinating. **

**Guest (How could you stop) Hehe, you´ll yet learn that I do love me some cliffhangers ;-)**

**Guest (dumb Liv) Well, those are not the words I´d choose obviously, but I think their sometimes overdramatized interaction and relationship is a big chunk of the fascination of this show which basically has the main guy caught between two not entirely sane women even though i´d say Mellie would win the Miss Crazy any day…**

**Guest (wanted to cry) Hehe, I feel mean saying this, but I see that as a compliment. Moving a reader to tears that is ;)**

**Jazphase: Hm, not sure about that. I kind of don´t really believe in using pregnancy to make a point or create extra drama in a story which is what undoubtedly would happen. Plus, at least that´s how I see it, I do not think that Liv (even if she is sleeping with Jake to try and fool herself into being able to start anew) would not take the necessary precautions right now, in her situation…**

**Guest (love yours story): Thanks so much, hope you´ll keep enjoying it. **

**LoreneMichelle41: Thanks for the nice feedback and yes as I said earlier, the ISIS element seemed like a nice touch to me, a possibility to give the story and situation more depth and actually have them handle some issues besides "just" the romance drama.**

**Chapter 6 - Secrets**

It was strange how the rain that had been such a mirror image of her mood just moments ago, the constant downpour of drops reflecting her own self pity, but had suddenly turned into something that almost had the quality of music; raindrops rhythmically, elatedly almost drumming onto the pavement and the cars, almost making her want to dance.

It was a feeling as irrational as her self-loathing and as the insecurity she had felt earlier, as illogical as her running in circles and her yelling at Jake after he had merely contributed to her mission to hide from who she knew she never really wanted to hide from. There had been times and she was sure there always would be when Fitz would drive her mad and make her angry but at the same time, just as inevitably, it was as that little phone call had made her realize once more that she could not be complete without him. Just like he had said for himself. Fate was a strange thing and Olivia didn´t really believe in it – she believed in her ability to shape and create her own life, to have a say in what happened and how things turned out but Fitz and her always seemed just a little away from that orderly scheme. Fitz and her had never been predictable and foreseeable that way. Maybe that was part of the charm.

She had hailed a taxi shortly after and on the way back to her apartment had rewound the conversation, short as it had been in her head over and over again. She was aware she had been crying, but gladly the rain had done a good job masking that so the cab driver never asked any questions or gave her any funny looks – unlike that one woman had, obviously overhearing part of her conversation and of course unable to sort in what was going on or who the young sad woman was talking to. "Hey darling," she had called over her from a short distance, then touched her arm in sympathy. "if he makes you cry he´s not worth it, eh?" Her gentle smile and the little wink had apparently aimed at cheering up the young stranger in the white coat and she had partly succeeded, at least Olivia had had to smile a bit at the older women´s words – but mostly just because she wondered how she would react if he knew who she was talking to.

"Here we are Ma´am, that´s 19 Euros, please" the cab driver announced, slowing down and halting the car in front of the fine looking apartment building, tossing a glance into the rear mirror. For a moment Olivia considered telling him to drive on. But to take her where? She´d have to map out a plan because right now she had no idea what to do and that bugged her. Olivia Pope who had still had a grip on her life had always known what to do, had always been able to set a plan of action but she caught herself thinking that right now her only plan of action was to hear Fitz´ voice again because call her he would, she was sure about it. The problem in the way of that was, as the light behind the windows clearly suggested, that she was not alone "at home" to have that conversation in the peace and quiet she would have liked to have. She herself had no clear idea of why she had allowed Jake to follow her onto that plane. She knew it wasn´t love, knew with a certainty she had not felt in a while that love indeed belong to another, but no matter what her motives had really been – probably an unwillingness to start a new life alone, to truly leave everything behind – she didn´t think Fitz would instantly grasp the complexity of that. She hated the thought of lying to him there, but decided that hiding Jake´s presence, the fact that they were sharing an apartment, was not a good topic for a conversation she longed for more than anything she had wanted in the last two weeks.

He must have heard her turn the keys, because he had gotten up from the sofa where he had probably been sitting for a while, waiting. He had tried to call her on her phone but she had not answered it. "Liv!" His voice sounded both relieved and slightly angered. "I was worried for you, where have you been?"

"I´m a big girl, Jake, I went for a walk and now I´m back, there is no reason to worry about me."

He frowned a bit. "You´re still angry because of the photos? Are you planning to give me this treatment for..how long?"

She took off her coat, picking her cell phone out of her pocket before hanging the coat on a hanger. "No it is not and yes it is. I don´t like it when things are being withheld from me Jake."

He gave her that look he had given her earlier. "Things you withheld from yourself and with good reason. Look at you, Liv. You´re soaked from the rain, a few photographs, a little thinking about him and you run off without telling me where to."

"You are not my babysitter, Jake."

She was maybe being unfair there, showing that kind of sharp tone against him, but a big part of her reaction was anger at herself, anger at her attempts to hide for the last fortnight, anger at her own way to try and get away from It all and anger at the fact that even though she had just decided this had been the wrong path, she still had no idea what would be a better alternative.

"I am not." he said. "but you agreed to come here so I guess you didn´t mind my intervention too much." He walked towards her a bit, raised a hand to brush a strand of her still damp hair from her face and all of a sudden he seemed so manipulative, so false to her that she shrank away. He didn´t follow but continued. "It was you who first talked about going away, Liv. You should not forget that. I decided to come with you. Think about all the crap, all the madness we left behind. You know none of us want to return to that so…" now he did do a step further and she did one back as well, finding the wall behind her. "…we should accept the reality of this being tough, of starting anew being tough, but it will change. You´ll get over him, Liv."

She shook her head, slightly, stepped away. "I´ll be sleeping in the other bedroom." she said, stepping away and she heard him stop in his tracks after he had apparently tried to follow her, realizing what her words implied, what her reaction implied and what it meant she had been home so late. "Please, tell me you didn´t call him."

"I really don´t want to discuss this, Jake. Accept this, okay?"

"You did? Liv, seriously?"

"Jake…."

He raised his hands in defiant gesture. "Liv you need to.."

"I need to have some time of my own tonight, Jake." she said and closed the door behind her, leaning against her with her back. She could hear him step up. There had been a time, up till earlier this day even when she had reluctantly appreciated his closeness, knowing it wasn´t right and feeling bad for accepting the cheap relief it gave her soul only to later amplify her guilt and longing. But right now, knowing he was on the other side of the door she suddenly realized there was more than a wall dividing them. "Liv." His voice was soft again, but somewhat pleading. Calm. Jake was mostly calm. Always seemed rational and what he said made sense. Whereas Fitz just like her was someone that could be driven out of his mind. Would yell and pout and nearly stamp his feet. But maybe that made it all the harder. Maybe that made it all the more dangerous, all the more tempting that indeed it would be so much easier with Jake. So much easier to start anew, don the white hat…. How messed up was her life, she thought, if she considered the guy who had run that secret, messed up organization as the more reasonable choice of a partner? Truly messed up, she decided. Because that was just what her head told her, her reason. And even that was faulty. Her heart and gut told her different. Her heart and gut made her take out her phone as she slid down the door to sit with her back against it, looking at the small screen. And she usually trusted her gut even though she wished she could always trust it. Like she once had. "You should sleep, Liv." he said from the other side of the door. "Things will look better tomorrow. A new start is always hard but I´m here. You know I´m here if you want to… if you want anything." So soothing. So rational. She closed her eyes to shake it off.

"Good night, Jake."

She could hear him heave a small sigh and walk away.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She must have been staring at the display for minutes, long minutes, maybe quarter an hour or more. Still wearing her boots and she nearly dozed off staring at the display. She knew he´d call. He had told her and she knew he had been as desperate to hear her voice, talk to her, as she had, maybe even more so. He would call…would he?

She answered the phone before the sound even gave it away, clicking the answer call field right when it began to flash.

"Hey."

"There was a time when we used to start our conversations like that. Good times."

She could hear fatigue in his voice as well as a smile. For a moment her desire to see that smile was enarly overbearing.

"Good times." she repeated.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Now it was her turn to smile. "I have been looking at my phone for the last 20 minutes or so. Don´t tell anyone. And I never just admitted that."

A light chuckle, slightly joyless. He did sound so strained. Her fault? It had to be, because in the end it was always her, wasn´t it? She was the eye of the storm. "Not a word." he said.

"You sound tired."

"Bit of a rough day I´m afraid. I have a rather stressful job as you might know."

"And there I was thinking at least Cy would give you less of a hard time without me being around to be a distraction for your noble causes." She could feel herself smile a bit.

"There are people in the Middle East who unfortunately don´t share Cy´s philosophy there…"

"The ISIS thing?"

"Yes. I wish you were here. I´d ask you for advice." It was obvious to her that part of the reason he was addressing this, something they could talk about as professionals was so they would not have to talk about what really stood in the room so to say. Jerry. How Fitz was coping. She went along with it.

"I am no expert on foreign politics."

"You´ve good perfectly good intuition. It can help to get an idea of someone who observes things from the outside. Did you follow the news?"

"I avoided them to be honest."

A pause. Did he just sigh? It was hard to tell.

"We´re considering an air strike." he then said. "A few camps close to Baghdad. It´s quite likely we could land a few good hits, beat them back, at least hold the tide for a while, maybe break their momentum at best. But…"

"You´re not sure."

"I´m not sure. Tell me what you think."

She smiled, got up from the door, made a few paces into the room, her brain automatically kicking into the mode of the fixer. "You´re expecting me to solve an international crisis situation Fitzgerald Grant? Over the phone?"

"It´s a secure line" he gave back as if this was the most evident of reactions to her question.

"Fitz…"

"I just…would appreciate your input, that´s all. You´re….you steady me. I feel more secure when you´re around. I can focus better. You left. You took my focus with me." His words sounded accusing but with the trace of a smile she was sure he was wearing right now.

"Where are you?"

"The Oval. I´ll have a call with the Iraqi president later. Consider our options."

"Good." No expert as she had said, but instantly feeling him. It was so easy it amazed her. The connection was there, despite everything and despite the distance. "Get your options, get an opinion from someone outside the Joint Chiefs and from within, then compare. Find a common denominator. It´s just a problem, Fitz. You can fix it."

He chuckled. "Olivia Pope, you think you can fix the Middle East that easily?"

"No." she gave back. "you´re the politician, that´s your job."

"I appreciate the trust."

"I voted for you."

A small silence, but not an awkward one this time. "You just weigh your options Fitz," she went on. "and when you make your decision, make it. Don´t falter." She sat down on the bed, opposite the door, suddenly feeling more energized.

"What if my decision is wrong? This is about lives. An airstrike could kill innocents."

"As will civil war, Fitz. Emotions are difficult in this kind of debate but don´t leave them out. I can´t help you decide. But I trust in your. Your abilities. You´re brilliant, I know it."

"Thank you."

She smiled.

A pause on his side. Then: "I do miss you, Livvie."

"So do I." He did not ask her again to come back, did not beg her. He had made his case earlier, when she had been standing in the rain and knew she would remember it. He trusted her there, had never belittled her by repeating things over and over. "Give me time to think, Fitz." she said, trying to reply to unspoken thoughts. "There were so many things, I need to work through them."

"All right." His voice was low. She could tell he didn´t like it, but accepted that sentiment for now. "You know what I think of this. You know what I want…what I´d wish for.."

"I do…" she said. "I.."

What she wanted to say next got stuck in her throat. Had she heard approaching footsteps? She had not paid attention probably, or had he made an effort to tread silently? Whatever it was, she had no warning of his approach, the door opened that very moment and Jake was standing in the door frame, a cup of something hot in his hand. He saw her with the phone in her hand. And froze. And so did she, not completing her sentence. A second. Two. Three.

Then Fitz seemed to wonder what had stunned her into silence. "Livvie? Are you okay?"

She could hear the words through the speaker phones, wondered if their volume carried to the door where Jake stood … and they obviously did because he could tell from the way he opened his mouth and then closed it that he pieced together in seconds what was going on, who she was calling. "Livvie?"

Liv shook her head. Slowly. _Don´t_, that gesture said. _Don´t ruin it, Jake. Please. Please don´t speak. Don´t._ There was just one thing she wanted right now. For Fitz not to know that she was not alone…


	7. Chapter 7 - Hurt

**Author: I know I am repeating myself, but thanks again for your reviews and to all the others as well who favourited or just read this story. I hope you´ll continue having fun with it.**

**So, the reviews I got went into a similar direction of mainly being …annoyed with Jake which was maaaaybe what my intention was. ;) But anyways, here´s a few words to you:**

**AuntDee: Let´s see then if I stay in character here… ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing**

**LoreneMichelle41: Her reaction to this was planned before your review already, but you´ll find a few of your suggestions and another few things that are different. Hope you don´t mind. :)**

**Guest: I agree to some extent, they´re both frustrating characters at times and not always very reasonable or logical in how they act, but then again they're both very strong personalities, bound to clash. I am pretty sure she loves him, she is just not capable of handling everything that comes with it at times and I do think her leaving the States was an act of love in a way, to protect him, little sense as this may make to some. **

**Cleo: Much of your feelings there mirror mine. ;) **

**Umusarah: A nice summary of things, thank you for that. Hope you´ll read on and enjoy. In particular thanks for commenting on the reality of things, I always try to achieve realism and seeing a reader think I do is a special compliment for me. :)**

**Guest: No, he doesn´t need to, but things are sometimes a little less what needs to happen and a bit more what should not… **

**Rachgreengeller: Yes, I would think so too. And by the way, hello to a fellow Friends fan. :)**

**Chapter 7 - Hurt**

"Livvie, are you okay?" Fitz was sitting on the floor of the Oval Office, his feet touching the large presidential seal on the carpet before him that he had been absent mindedly staring at throughout the conversation, his leather shoes just touching the bird´s talons, his back was leant against the Resolute Desk. He had taken off his jacket before he made the call, could feel the engravings of the massive piece of furniture uncomfortably probing his back. But until a moment ago he had not even noticed the discomfort, entirely occupied by the sweet, sad experience of talking to her, thousands of miles away but talking to her. Now, however, for some reason, she had fallen silent. Was it something he said, he wondered? He couldn't think of anything.

"Livvie?"

Again, nothing but he could hear her breathing against the speaker phone. Then there was another voice.

"I made you some coffee, Liv, just how you like it."

The voice was distinct and he knew it too well to be fooled about who it was that was with her. It sent an icy chill of disappointment down his back, just as if someone had flung a bucket of ice water right at his face.

"I see…" he said, sounding choked but trying desperately to hold on to the last fragment of dignity that was threatening to drown in his anger. She ran from him when he most needed her? With him?

When he moved the phone away from his ear, closing his eyes, trying to gather his wits, he could hear her words, pleading, just before he broke the connection and in a fit of rage threw the phone against the wall, nearly toppling over the basalt statue of a rider atop a bucking wild horse. "Fitz, please…"

He wanted to scream, maybe he should, maybe that was the sanest thing to do but what was this thing called sanity anyways? He leaned forward, buried his hands in his hair, suppressing a groan and trying to master his rage. His disappointment. Why would she do that to him? Call him but obviously she didn´t care any more. To torment him?

The phone had splattered into a few dozen pieces, the clatter had obviously been heard outside. Either that or it was time because after all there were other matters at hand, a world to run, funny enough, he thought sarcastically, the love life of him and her was not the only thing of concern, because in that moment the door opened. Cyrus´ face changed from a rather neutral yet determined look to almost despair. Without saying a word he was by his side in a few swift steps and without asking permission, without observing any kind of protocol he reached down and pulled Fitz to his feet, immediately piecing together what must have happened (at least to some extent), improvising the rest. "Mr President, the Secretary of Defence and the Secretary of State will be here in two minutes along with the interpreter for the phone call." He kept his voice low, but other man´s words sounded urgent, hurried. Knowing he was mastering, had to master, a crisis right now. "Whatever just happened, it´s for later, we have set up the call with the Iraqi president in ten minutes, Sir."

Following an impulse, Fitz shook off the other man´s arm as soon as he was on his feet, maybe also to take the shock out of his friend´s face letting the other realize he was not drunk. "To hell with that." He muttered through pressed teeth.

"No, to hell with her, if she leaves you in such a state." Cyrus gave back, growling, those few occasions where he was actually challenging his authority. "This is about war and peace, about national security."

"I want to make another phonecall first, Cy. Tell them to wait." His heart was pounding as he made eye contact, determination and pain on his face. "Mr President…"

"I want. To make another call first, Cy." His voice was not louder but had a dangerous quality to it. "What just happened is none of your concern, Cy, I need a minutes, and in these few minutes I need to make a call." He was enunciating every word, partly to get a grip on his raging emotions, partly because he wanted to make sure there was to be nothing else before that.

Cy made a step back. "A secure line, Cy. Alone."

Cyrus gave him another long look before raising his hands and shrugging in defeat. "Five minutes, Sir. And after that I expect to see a president fit to lead."

It was luck for both of them, Fitz knew, that he was too upset to react to that blatant stressing of the boundaries of their roles, but for now he let it happen. When Cy closed the door, and Fitz guessed it took the other man some restraint to not slam it, he leant against the desk and closed his eyes for a moment. Tried to focus.

Why would she do this, he thought? Run…. With him…only to call him with him around? It angered him, hurt him…he didn´t know what to think of it. And before he could sort his thoughts, his intercom buzzed. He walked around his desk, feeling faint as he pressed the button.

"The line has been established on 2, Sir." His secretary sounded stressed, probably because Cy was menacingly breathing down her neck. "Thank you."

He took the receiver, an old fashioned thing in the age of smartphones but more secure than anything and dialed the number. Waited. It didn´t take long until a male voice responded.

"What an honour, Mr President."

"I need a favour." he said.

"I´m all ears."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She had jumped up already but it was too late. Olivia had a few good theories about why Jake had said this, she didn´t know which one came closest to the truth but she surely could rule out that his remark had been uttered not knowing who was on the end and would overhear and know who was with her. Jake knew perfectly well that it wasn´t necessary to speak overly loudly. The room was rather small and the two men had known each other for long enough for Fitz to be able to recognize his voice in an instant.

She wanted to push him out of the room, slam the door in his face but before she even got there, just when she grabbed Jake by the collar, she got the confirmation that Fitz had connected the dots. "I see." The hurt was evident in his voice, stabbed right through her.

Her intended push, further fuelled by the fake innocence on Jake´s face as if he wanted to claim he had merely been concerned and wanted to care for her with a thing as simple as coffee, was not delivered. Not then. She whirled around, started pacing. "Fitz, please!" Too late… The click in the line was obvious. She spun back.

"What the hell were you thinking!?"

He indeed had the nerve to play innocent for a moment.

"I was worried, I thought you´d like some…"

"Don´t fucking play with me Jake, you knew perfectly well what was going on here."

"Oh you mean that you were calling him?"

"_He_ was calling _me_!" That was not even anything of his business.

"Still you answered the phone. Liv, I told you earlier…"

"You just keep telling me things, I am a grown up person, Jake." Her voice was raised, shaking.

"You are not exactly acting like one, Liv." His brow was creased in annoyance but he did not raise his voice much. Which only made her angrier, his fake attempt as she saw it right now, to act as the only adult in the room. She threw up her hands, paced towards the closet.

"And what is this about now?" He was still standing in the door frame, watching her, his arms now lightly crossed in front of his chest, but his jaw clenched.

She didn´t reply.

"Liv. Let´s sit down and talk this through."

"I´m done talking. I´m done sitting tight …" She dragged her suitcase out of the closet, flipped it open on the bed.

"You´re not thinking straight, Liv. One call and you flip like this."

She paused abruptly. "No Jake, right now I AM thinking straight."

"Really?" Now there was an annoyed pitch in his voice. "It was _you_ who ran, remember? It was _you_ getting on that plane, it was _you_ not answering the phone back then."

Again, it all made such perfect sense. And if one considered it, it made far less sense for her to make this, right now, such a big deal. His remark might have been careless but it might have been just that. So what was it then that made her so angry, that made her rethink in a whirlwind the shaky reality she had started to build up here? She knew the answer the moment she asked it to herself. Her gut. She knew, suddenly, in her gut, that his acting was pretense. Whatever reason he had to act like this, he had made Fitz aware of his presence deliberately. He had wanted to hurt. He had risked hurting her feelings only to have his cheap feeling of triump. To make Fitz think she was lost to him. And that and Jake withholding the pictures from him earlier (whoever had sent them) was just enough, yet showing her with a startling clarity how fragile her own sanity was with…him. And without Fitz there was Jake, pretending to be the anchor of that sanity while in reality he was only poisoning it more.

She had her back to him, then moved on to throw her clothes into the suitcase, wordlessly as he watched, no attempt to stop her, before he spoke again. "We actually have a chance at a decent life here, Liv. A chance we don´t have over there. You know why. We´re both broken."

She faced him, shook her head, feeling how her heart was beating wildly against her chest. "If you really loved me." she said, shakily. "you would not tell me I´m broken. You´d try to fix me."

She snapped the suitcase shut, grabbed it off the bed, snatched her handbag. Good thing that she had never really unpacked much as if she had known…

He stepped in her way.

"Liv…"

"Let me pass, Jake."

"You and I know this is not a good idea. Think about it. Think reasonably for just one minute."

She shook her head.

"Let me pass." She pushed past him, tried. He grabbed her arm with a sudden vicious strength she didn´t know from him and that made her yelp more in terror than in pain. Suddenly she was very afraid. "Jake." His eyes were hard all of a sudden, his jaw set as he reached out with a second hand, tried to slowly but determinedly wrestle the suitcase from her hand. The determination in his eyes and something else mixed there scared her.

"I swear." she said, her voice coarse with anger and fear. "I swear if you don´t let go of me right now I will make a few phone calls, Jake." He just stared at her. "We both know you didn´t come with me just for pity or for….love." she nearly spat the last word. "_You_ are running from people too. People you don't want to know you´re here. I happen to know just a few, Jake."

Her hear was drumming almost painfully, she could almost feel her blood pulse in her ear as the seconds stretched endlessly. "Let. Me go."

And after a long, long moment, he did.

She left the apartment with her heels clicking against the cobblestones, once more, running. She hailed a taxi, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact there was actually one around after the night had fallen. Thanks to the big city life. Until it stopped, right until she had hurried inside, drawing a bewildered look from the driver, she noticed she didn´t feel safe. Only when the taxi gathered speed she was feeling her heart beat return to a somewhat more normal rate.


	8. Chapter 8 - Loopholes

**Author´s note:**

**Again many thanks to my dear readers and reviewers. :) A little note to you all: I will be without internet access for a few days starting Saturday, therefore the next update might take about a week. I´ll be able to write in between, but not upload most likely, so you´ll have to be a bit patient until next time unfortunately. **

**ShaunV76: Yes, she took him with her, she has to find a way out of the mess she created, in a way that´s only fair. :) Good to see that I made you so mad at him :D I see that as a compliment. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: Like the point you make about different realities, that´s exactly like it is. I was trying to create a bit of a parallel in this chapter, with two side characters trying to influence our main guys. On the phone call..not telling yet ;)**

**Guest: Thanks for the compliment. :) And yes, I do like a nice happy ending, not sure what kind yet but even though the hurt is necessary and logical there, they will hopefully find some way to work through it, headstrong and stubborn as they both are ;)**

**Umusarah: The mystery of the phone call will be solved in the next chapter quite likely, so i´ll have to tell you to wait for that. ;) And yes, I found it necessary for her to stand up against that. I made the attempts of manipulation (hiding the pictures, announcing he has coffee) deliberately subtle yet hoped that they were clearly so provocative and vile that she would hopefully see right through him. **

**Cleo: Got to wait for the solution of that mystery there (the phonecall) ;) As for Jake: I always found that this is the most dangerous part of him, that in a way he is very calculating and almost always very calm, talking sense in a way that you can see (if you´re not involved with him) is dangerous and manipulative, but that veils itself in a dangerous kind of manipulative, emotionally abusive in some ways behavior. **

**AuntDee94: well, I think it´s safe to assume that the call he made has something to do with Jake. Even though,heh, maybe it was just the pizza delivery ;)**

**Apollonialust: Thank you very much for the compliment, it´s very much appreciated. :) I hope you´ll stick around and keep reading, your review really put a smile on my face.**

**Guest: So many emotions. :) Thanks very much for your kind words and yes, bewildering as her behavior in season 3 might have seemed to us, I would say a lot of it comes with the pressure of all of it. It´s a crazy situation she´s in even though of course that doesn´t excuse everything…I think at some point she just nearly snapped and that was when she fled and took that plane, believing she could escape it all…**

**DayDreamLover: It´s an honour to have you catch up on my fic, I really mean that, seeing that I really admire your writing style. :) Thank you very much for your reviews and if you went through an emotional rollercoaster like that maybe that means I did the right thing in the way I am writing this. ;) Hope you´ll stay around and thanks again. **

**Chapter 8 – Loopholes in national security**

She had read somewhere, maybe Time Magazine, maybe something like National Geographic, years ago when she had still been at college, that it was impossible to eradicate ages of instinctive behavior with a mere handful of millennia of "civilization", that these survival instincts of our ancient forefathers and – mothers were still deep within us, observable in little everyday things and quirks. Such as in the fact that most people, entering a public space like a restaurant of café, if given the choice, would choose the seat that gave a good overview over one´s surroundings. Funny, Olivia thought, whether this were supposed to be ancient instincts was hard to tell, because her choice in a seat in this hotel bar seemed far more likely the result of her very present fear to be followed. As her eyes scanned the bar, she knew she was looking out for Jake. No, instincts could not explain this very rational behavior. It was only natural after what had happened earlier. That mild fear still lingering it also felt reassuring to tell herself that she was just being logical. That keeping a lookout was a sign of her ability to cope with the situation. She was in control. – She had never liked situations where she wasn´t.

It had been difficult and still was to keep a cool head, to not panic at what had happened. The sudden fear that had struck her when for a moment it had looked like Jake wanted to hurt her, mingled with the anger that came with it and the frustration that his behavior right before that dreadful scene had made Fitz hang up – all that had left her in emotional limbo in which her attempts to calm her nerves minutes ago in that taxi had almost felt welcome. Her impulse had been to directly head to the airport because if she hadn´t known after she had seen those photos, the sound of voice and… how his voice had sounded. It had told her without a doubt that he needed her, just like her first instincts after him hanging up being to rush off and leave her fragile second life behind showed her just how little she could imagine living without this complicated, sometimes oh so uncomfortable and enraging but nonetheless wonderful man.

When she had calmed down a little however, new obstacles had occurred to her. Her mind had flicked a few levers it seemed, turning her current situation into a situation she could handle – a problem that needed fixing. The goal of the client was: to get back home – the place that felt home, and that was not Vienna. But getting there would not be easy. One reason was that Jake might be on her tail once he had overcome the humiliation of her leaving him in that office, which was why she had not made her way to the airport right away, because unfortunately he knew her quite well and that would be the first place where he would be looking. Two, because even though she had made the decision to come here on her own, she was almost certain that her father had an eye on her – if not constantly, then he was definitely informed about the bigger picture. Which meant that he would be informed if his daughter attempted any bigger leaps – if he let her do those at all. Her gut, once more, was about to be proven right…

She didn´t have to look up the number, it was one of those she knew by heart, bless her good memory. It rang for a while, three, four, five times and Olivia watched a waiter approach a table near her, shaking her head lightly with a smile and pointing at her glass, indicating she was fine for the moment. The bar was not too crowded; she had deliberately chosen a hotel a bit away from the city buzz. She´d be safe here for the night and this corner of the lobby gave her as much privacy as possible.

"Abby?"

"Oh wow, look who´s calling. Have you fallen off the rim of the world?"

"Abby I´m sorry I didn´t call earlier." She could tell her friend was relieved and irked at the same time. "Are you at home?"

"Well, a good day, morning or afternoon to you, too, ma´am" the redhead gave back. "since I have no idea where you calling from but now I am at some big building with large rooms and a lot of wall space, formerly known as OPA."

"You´re at the office?"

"Well, someone is still paying the rent for this place we were told so…what is going on with that, Liv?"

She didn´t know. "Let´s talk about that later, okay? It´s really not easy, all of this. I…"

There was a pause on the other end. "I really have a few reasons to be mad with you but: Are you okay there, Liv?"

"I…yes. How are you guys?"

"We´re holding up," The redhead´s voice sounded a bit strained. "even though things seem to be falling apart without them revolving around you to be honest. People show up infrequently, Harrison has … he´s not with you, isn´t he?"

Olivia scowled, somewhat worried. "No." he said. "Is he…"

Abby interrupted her. "Well, why do you call?" Did she detect the slightest icy tone in her friend´s voice? But if so, could she really blame her? Was it fair, after all, to just turn your back on your old life? Wasn´t that a really selfish thing to do even when one believed it to be the best option there was?"

"This is a long story, Abby, but we will have time to talk about it soon."

"You´re coming back? When? Why?"

"That depends. I need Huck to check on something. Is he there by any chance?"

"Well, he is one of the people that I complained about being super infrequent. Apparently people don´t accept my authority even after my attempts to usurp OPA in the absence of a leader but…it´s your lucky day…"

Five minutes later, the call ended. Olivia could tell there were a lot of unspoken angers, disappointments. There was a lot more to heal, to repair and to fix than it seemed. Leaving had broken a few things and it hurt – especially when sitting in a random hotel lobby all alone in Vienna in the dead of night.

Her gut feeling had been right. She had asked Huck to check for her name in the Homeland Security database. Her own name – Olivia Pope - was out of question to use on the flight back, because all her papers were that of one Carolyn Bishop and that woman, as Huck had confirmed her suspicion, had, until a few moments ago, been listed on the No-Fly list of all general American airlines and the alert lists of American airports that scanned incoming people. She did not particularly like the thought of having to use her alias, it felt as false as all of the last weeks had been, but she didn´t have a choice there. And she needed to be back to the States to start actually fixing things.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"_I think this is an important discussion, an important issue."_

"_Oh I absolutely agree." Fitz walked around the sofa, handed her a glass of wine that he had poured from a decanter that sat on the marble counter near the mini bar. She liked his casual look today – a dark blue sweater, somehow going nicely with his full hair, sleeves half rolled up in a matter that looked casual and at ease now, whereas he used that as a means to look the man of the people when campaigning. Sleeves rolled up meant president Fitzgerald Grant was ready to do the business of the people heads on. Sleeves rolled up here meant Fitz was feeling laid back, despite the political discussion they were having. Olivia had always liked those with him because even though she had run his campaign, she did not agree with him on every tiny issue. She believed in the man – not in any tiny fragment of his policies. That, for her, had always meant democracy and he had told her on several occasions that she had often provided him with new perspectives on matters that had seemed clear to him. "The thing is, I believe it´s a different matter depending on the angle you look at it. It´s a matter of national security."_

"_So you´re thinking about signing the PATRIOT Act for another two years?"_

_He took a sip of his wine, leant back. "I have a few advisors on it. There are a few things about it I don´t like but right now, I believe it´s the best option we have."_

"_I never liked it."_

"_There is more to it that nude scanners at airports." he said, placed down his glass and came closer, placing his knuckles against the fabric of the sofa, shifting his weight and smirking. "even though those, I hear, don´t show anything. I am sure, aiport personnel are always disappointed when they see you step into one of those."_

_She chuckled, give him a playful nudge. "Fitz! I´m being serious."_

_He regarded her with a trace of that smirk but serious eyes. "So am I." he said. "I wish it were different, but believe me, you don´t want to even know about every little threat out there. If you had the full scope…"_

"…_I might think differently, I know, I know, Mr President." She flashed him a charming smile. "but as long as I don´t, I should be a watchful but behaved citizen enduring the scanners and accepting the danger of racial profiling for Arab Americans when it comes to the No Fly Lists?"_

_He gave a slightly overdramatic grunt. "Livvie…" He leant forward a bit. "Never just accept things. It gives us politicians the idea we can sit on our asses and be lazy." His tone was partly seductive, but__she could tell that despite his slightly joking words he took her concerns to heart. He always did. She was none of his advisors but it would have been naïve of her to believe she had no influence on this man´s decisions. He leant forward, kissed her neck gently as she tilted her head back, a small sound somewhere between a snicker and a whimper escaping her. "however, sometimes it´s wise to observe the rules, Livvie. There will be other times, Livvie… times when the world is more at peace. Let´s not__let down our guard till then." His right hand went to the front of her sweater, the back of his fingers softly running against the curve of her body. "How about we agree on me taking my oath to the Constitution seriously…" his lips moved a little higher up as his words began to trail a little and she herself started to lose focus on his actual words. "…and at the same time we´ll see for a little longer to make sure we know a few things, such as when people with funny businesses and funny names try to enter the country. Hey, they could be after me after all, right?" The rest of the discussion was continued at another time in all earnest and seriousness, she remembered, later, in front of the fireplace in a cabin in Camp David, but not then… _

"Thank you, Ma´am, have a pleasant flight." Olivia was startled out of her thoughts and looked at the security officer who had checked her passport, a woman roughly her own age, drawn back to reality from memories and daydreams of a simpler, better, easier time, at least that´s what it seemed in retrospect. She had been tense for a moment, even though she needn´t have. A few mouse clicks had probably been enough for Huck to clear her name out of the Homeland Security database, her mind retreating into a memory about just that kind of issue while she waited. As she pulled her suitcase towards the boarding area, it became clear to her what had made such discussions so lively with him. He was the president, sure, he had a different viewpoint and knew more about national threats and international terrorism than the average protester that took to the street with a poster reading quotes from "1984", but she had a friend that had proven to her again and again that security measures like that usually evaded those that knew their way around it. .._we´ll see for a little longer to make sure we know a few things, such as when people with funny businesses and funny names try to enter the country._ And boarding that plane she almost felt like doing something wrong. Sure she had no other choice if she wanted to go back to the US without getting into a bureaucratic nightmare, sure it was illegal, but did that mean it was the right thing to do? With regards to that question, her gut stayed silent.


	9. Chapter 9 - Homecoming

**Author´s note: Aaand, I´m back and here´s a brand new chapter. Enjoy, everyone. :)**

**Jennkyle: Welcome and thanks for your reviews. Hope you´ll keep enjoying it. :) And I didn´t travel, I moved. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: Hehe, the suspense. ;) Yep, it´s not going to be easy for those two for sure. Thanks again. :)**

**Apollonialust: Nah, you didn´t scare me at all. :) Love to hear what people think of the developments in this, it means they show an interest in the what wills and what ifs. I really like your analysis of Olitz there, of dependency and Olivia´s abandonment issue, I think there is a lot of truth to that; she is more vulnerable than she would ever admit. Good to see you like my pace. :) I prefer to take my time, to properly explore things, hoping to not bore anyone with it, but i´ve never really been someome to overly rush my stories. Thanks for the detailed review. :)**

**Umusarah: Seems like I need to give you a raincheck on the call thing once more, because it appeared to me in the writing process it would be good to make a cut where I make a cut in this chapter, because it works better with the story angle. Hope you won´t be too mad at me for keeping you on your toes for a little longer. ;)**

**DayDreamLover: Yeah, I figured Abby being the character she is would be a bit upset there, which on the other hand only shows how worried she is. :) Thanks for your review. :)**

**Owenhunted: Wow, thanks for your words. :) And welcome, hope you´ll keep enjoying this story. :)**

**Chapter 9 – Homecoming**

„_By the hour it seems ISIS is tightening the noose around Baghdad. Troops of fighters advancing from the north have been reported for days, whereas reports about supporting troops to the south seem to be still rather shaky. News of another rebel camp had started to leak yesterday but so far we have had no confirmation of it. The Iraqi government who appeared self confident yesterday has mostly remained silent and at this hour it is impossible to tell how and if Washington will step in. We have our expert on the Middle East with us today who can maybe enlighten us on this most recent indecisiveness of the Grant Administration. Dr. Hays, expert for foreign relations who served as an advisor for embassies throughout the region in the late 1990s under the Clinton Administration is with us today. Dr Hays, can you comment on the recent development?"_

It was like some kind of addiction Olivia had decided a while ago to herself already, because admitting that one had a sort of problem was half the way of fixing it. This addiction, to always have to stay in the loop of developments had been necessary when she had still been in DC and she had tried to break the habit once she had left. Now it was like returning to those same old routines, like a junkie getting a fix and even though she felt remorse along with it, it also felt good. She had never liked being isolated from what was going on and even though the small television set mounted to the airport café was just a small substitute for having her full channels and connections available, it was still a start. Or the beginning of the end - she couldn´t tell.

On the screen, a serious looking older man clad in a not too well fitting suit which he might have looked handsome in a few years ago, nodded in agreement to the 40 something ash blonde commentator who was regarding her guest with the serious impression of a woman who can´t stand not being taken seriously. Which probably meant this was her worst fear, Olivia knew the kind.

"_Well, I personally am no advocator of US involvement in affairs like these, but we are a world power in a way, we still are. There are other ways, it does not have to be air strikes. There can be humanitarian help, the president could forward ideas for a UN special committee to send blue helmets into the region ... there is really a range of possibilities.." he spread his hands a bit before__folding them again, expertly demonstrating said range. "but what hurts us right now is the indecisiveness. Maintaining diplomatic ties between the US and Iraq is a touchy issue, we all know that." A nod from the commentator. "but strengthening it does not only mean we can help stabilize__Iraq, it can also help stabilize the entire region. It can help forward our efforts to communicate with other countries in the Middle East, Iran, for instance. The events unfolding there, threaten not only Iraq after all. What ISIS is seeking is to widen its influence through the entire region, establish an own state. Iran is not interested in having its own influence zone limited either."_

"_So you think that the Grant Administration is acting too timidly?"_

Olivia nearly rolled her eyes. What had happened to investigative journalism these days?

The man in the slightly wrinkled suit shook his head in a so-so kind of gesture.

"_Well, timid is not word I´d choose,"_ he said. _"because timid would mean there was some diplomatic activity going on right now which we are not sure of at all, so it merely does look indecisive what they´re doing. No statement, no news, apparently there is either a lot of negotiation going on behind the curtains or none at all. And I personally believe that if it was the first, the Iraqi government would__have mentioned some of that in order to put pressure on ISIS. So yes, right now we do not look strong there. I wonder what is keeping the president from taking a stand."_

Besides her annoyance with the people on screen (probably hard working people all the same, and she did not give them enough credit in her current state), the news made her worry and that was exactly why she should have stayed away from it in the first place. But Fitz had mentioned the issue over the phone before the conversation had been so uncharmingly ruined. He had been in the middle of something, had planned to make a call. That there was no statement yet, nothing could mean many things, but made her wonder whether he had made the call at all. Or wether he had been so upset that he had cancelled it. She closed her eyes, the very thought of this possibility, of what Jake had done affecting how Fitz was doing his job angering and sickening her. The latter, because once more it made the connection towards why she had left. Because once more she was at the centre of things. If she hadn´t called him, he would have made that call. He probably would have made a decision different or slightly different but he would have made that call. He would have taken a stance. He would not have caused this Dr Hayes, expert on the Middle East to use charming, elaborate words to call him weak. It was high time for her to get back to DC. Or maybe…if this was already what the first ripples of the incoming waves caused, she should run away from it as far as she could. Or: if looked at from a different angle: maybe it was time to stop putting the blame on herself she thought with sudden resolve. It had not been her call disrupting Fitz´ job there, it had been Jake´s decision to mark his territory, territory he couldn´t even claim as his, in the worst moment possible.

A service announcement snapped her out of her thoughts and she got to her feet before she could consider differently. There had been no direct flight possible from Vienna so she had had to connect from Reykjavik, after about half the way. Maybe that was a good thing, because apart from geysers and ponies, neither of which was on her priority list, there were few excuses for her to try escapism on this island between home and exile.

She had a few more looks around as she made her way to the boarding area once more, for the uptenth time scanning the crowds for the face she wanted to see least of all. But either Jake had stayed in Vienna or he had taken another plane. She sure hoped for the latter, but knowing him (or what part of him she thought she knew) this seemed unlikely.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He had been certain she would take the fastest route, because even though she was not always easy to get, when it came to _him_, she was easy, oh so easy to predict. So easy it hurt Jake´s pride and he wasn´t sure what else. But this time, it had turned out, he had misjudged her. She must have taken a later plane, a plane to another airport, a plane leaving the next day maybe, which meant she was maybe still somewhere in Vienna and had fooled him. It made him angry to think of that and he had had the entire flight, the entire roundabout 8 or so hours it took across the Atlantic to mull over how things had gone wrong and he knew his own problems and issues only added to it.

The stewardess, a pretty, young thing who could not have been doing that job for too long had stopped approaching him after his slightly flirty smiles had become taxed. He had run, but it wasn´t that easy. It never was. Running with Olivia, leaving the States, had been a sweet thing, the sweet taste of revenge and freedom all at once, knowing that if he couldn´t have freedom, not for eternity, because nobody could ever stop being Command they said, he could at least have his revenge. And hours ago when he had stepped into that room to find her sitting on her bed with that bittersweet smile on her face which told him with absolute certainty who was on the other end of the line, that revenge had been complete for a few precious moments, filling his blood with adrenaline and the feeling of victory.

It had not lasted. He had never really been foolish enough to believe she was truly his. He had tried to tell her that she was though, tried to make her believe. That they had, they needed a future together. Had believed that if he talked it into her for long enough, managed to keep her on the other side of the ocean as had seemed likely, she might grow into it. She was a great woman after all.

Was it love he felt for her? He wasn´t sure. He liked how she made him feel, he liked the way his skin felt against hers, how she would give into him when the mood struck her, the way she would switch off rational thinking and almost believe in a normal life with a man who was not the goddamn president. And he sure did love the feeling that came with knowing how it made Fitz feel when he knew she had chosen him even if it only seemed like this. The feeling that came with knowing Fitz, perfectly pampered Fitz, realized that he had lost her to the man he had called a friend, but the man he would not tell so many things. The man he would keep secrets from, the man he would ask to watch over the woman he had grown fond of in a way. But was it love? Or was it a love of the feeling, that sweet mix of triumph and desire? Jake Ballard could not tell and it did not matter.

He did not even know why he was attempting to track her down. She had made more than clear that she was running again. Which meant he could still use the same old tune of appealing to her reason and sanity that Fitz had so long ago destroyed and twisted. Love might come with time. Normalcy might come with it and that was all the more important. No more of that messed up life in DC, no more of murders and intrigues and B316. Yes, if he was honest with himself (and that was the only way of evaluating things in a reasonable manner), getting her back, making her believe, was the only way to establish a life for himself in the long run. She was his anchor, as little as he liked admitting that to himself. His anchor and he sweet, sweet triumph.

She had not been on the plane, but she would be, soon. He needed a safe place to stay, probably a new identity, too, because even though B316 had been dismantled, he didn´t fool himself about the likeliness of this giant´s fall causing an earthquake in its wake. He had given Rosen a lot of delicate information and even though he trusted the other man was still far too scared to drop Jake´s name in the revelations that the information he now possessed would likely bring, he knew it would be stupid to feel safe. Rosen would reveal things, would blow the whistle on B316. Jake knew his type. Closet cowards who took the easy route when there was a way to shine to appear brave. Yes, Rosen would want to play the hero, the guy with the white hat and he would no doubt know how to turn this into one big scandal. Well, if nothing else, there was sweetness to that thought too, because everyone in town knew Rosen was not particularly fond of this administration. Funny, Jake thought as he entered the arrivals area after passing through immigration, how one shared things with even the most antagonist of persons.

He had rented a car on the plane already, had plotted a strategy on the flight. He would take the car, stay in a small apartment he had used as a secret retreat for himself, a place nobody really knew he lived at, because he had always known there might be a time when he was in need of a place to hide. There was no real need in it with B316 gone, but one never knew. If nothing else, at least Olivia should be unaware of him having returned, because sure as hell she would show up in DC earlier rather than later, even though some later than him it seemed. And when she arrived, he´d be there, he had observed her before and back then he had made a copy of her keys, never telling her about that extra pair. A few cameras would be quickly established, then he would observe her, find where she was vulnerable and then make a plan on how to get her back and keep her this time. At least his head start meant he would have time to have all of that set up. It would not take him any longer than three hours, four at the most and her place would be all wired up again without her even knowing…

Jake paid in cash at the car rental and made his way to the parking garage where they had told him his ride was parked. A good car, he could afford himself the luxury after all the involuntary annoyances of the last 24 hours he had decided. He was almost tempted to put on a whistling tune as he entered the empty garage, thinking that despite everything he was already on top of his game again. B316´s dying convulsions would blow up all over Fitz who right now was probably too emotional to deal with Olivia, would drive her away again while he, Jake would be watching her every move and then lure her back to him, for good this time, because surely this would be the last, dramatic act of this unruly dramedy that was the affair of Olivia Pope and President Fitzgerald Grant III. In the end, he would be the one to get the girl and the glory.

Approaching, Jake could see the car, a brand new Chevy, parked between two others on the other side of the garage, a few steps away from where he was. The place was deserted but that did not bother him. A swift ride to his apartment and he´d not even catch the early morning rush hour. It was far too early for that. This sure would not be his worst of days.

Then, everything happened in the blink of an eye. When the sudden attack came, he had no chance to react, even years of training were dulled by one too long second of believing himself top of the world. The attacker came from behind and Jake only heard the last two steps. He tried to whirl around but it was too late. The punch that was supposed to hit the back of his head, hit his temple instead, giving him the arguable joy of feeling his skin split next to his eye before the iron bar knocked him out cold.


	10. Chapter 10 - Favours

**Author´s note:**

**My muses are meaning well with me these days, I should make use of it while it lasts… here´s the next chapter for you, guys.**

**Guest: Hehe, well, good thing I could comply there, then. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: Hehe, good. Great to read you enjoy :D**

**Apollonialust: Thanks for the long comment / feedback and thanks for your kind words. :) Jake isn´t my favourite either, not at all actually, which is why I am trying to bring this antagonist to life a bit here, because I believe exposing his thoughts will make him even more calculating and less likeable, yet humanize him in a way which is an interesting thing to explore as a writer. **

**Guest: well that would kind of ruin a cliffhanger a bit, would it not? ;)**

**Jennkyle: Heh, thanks. :) And in this chapter you´ll find out, promise. ;)**

**Umusarah: Thank you. :) Why revenge…I figured there would be two reasons: one, the thing he puts forwards in his thoguts and that is similar to the monologue Eli gave Fitz once, that he is allegedly a spoiled brat who never had to really work had for anything. The second though is Liv, because he knows deep inside it´s Fitz she loves and that makes him jealous. **

**Chapter 10 - Favours**

There was no clear strategy on what to do first, where to go first. She had left the States in a rush weeks ago, but she was certain that her belongings had been tended to. Part of it had already been shipped to Vienna, the apartment had mostly been furnished already when she had rented it – yes, rented, not bought as some might have thought, because even though she could have afforded it, it had always seemed too limiting to her. Buy property…maybe later. And when later came, there had been another thing possible. Why buy an apartment in the District when there was a daydream involving real estate in Vermont? A naïve thought and in a way she had always known that, but keeping herself from investing into an apartment or house of her own had been a strange kind of luxury she had been intent on keeping. And probably that had made it easier for the place to be rented out again. Olivia was certain her father had taken care of it. As a consequence there literally was no home to come back to. For now. It would have to be hotels for starters. But then again that was a small worry for did she really know yet how to proceed? Where to stay? If to stay and how long? No. It would all have to depend on little things.

And therefore hotels it was again. She allowed herself a more posh one, now that she was hoping an ocean between her and Jake, one that was not too far away from Pennsylvania Avenue, because strangely and irrationally enough that felt safe. She had no idea how things would work out, how Fitz would react or if she would even be able to see him. After all, he was not exactly the type of person where you could simply ring the front door or stroll through a garden gate. She would have to work her old channels. Pull a few old strings that she didn´t really know whether or not to trust too much but that were unavoidable.

A heavy, somewhat fatalist sigh and she looked up, seeing into the face she had known for years now before he sat down next to her on the park bench. In front of them, the reflecting pool was peaceful, touched by the light of the late morning, tourists taking pictures. For a moment, Cyrus just looked straight ahead, hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat and neither of them spoke. At least he had acted on her call.

"I don´t know what to think about this now to be honest."

"It´s complicated, Cy."

"Oh, isn´t it always with you?"

"Cy…"

"You really can´t blame me for pointing this out."

"How is he doing?"

He gave a joyless chortle. "Much of the answer to that is classified you know."

"Cyrus."

"How do you think he´s doing?" His voice sounded sharper than he had probably intended. "He just lost his child and there are moments when I think he´s giving things up altogether."

"Like not making a call that was already scheduled."

"Look, Liv, I have no idea…"

"I´m just piecing things together here. Classified I know. I just watched the news."

Another sigh, then he turned towards her just a bit more, edged just a little closer, waited for a group of tourists to stroll by before continuing. "He is holding on to things. Barely. But he´ll get a grip of himself. Now if you´re asking me to arrange a date for the two of you, I am not willing to watch him lose his senses again altogether because you come here after disappearing and mess him up again."

"I am actually here to fix a few things."

"Well, you sure have a funny way to do that then, Liv. Because I, too, know how to piece things together and I have the strong suspicion that his mood yesterday evening was heavily influenced by maybe another phone call he had that better shouldn´t have happened."

Now it was her turn to sigh. "I really need to see him, Cy. I owe him." Where had the times gone, she wondered, how badly had things turned for this scene to feel strangely like some upside down déjà vu, where were the times when he had come to her and she had strut away with a wry smirk, knowing Cy would arrange things how she wanted it, because the President of the United States would come to her if he wanted something. But she stopped herself, reminding herself that this had been just the kind of thing she had run away from. Being the centre of things. Being the problem that needed fixing. She guessed that even now she wasn´t doing that too well.

"I trust it you two have something worked out, why not use that? Phones, I am sure you got his number." There had been times that she truly longed for sometimes, even though even those memories were tainted with betrayal and crime, with lies and guilt. Times when her and Cy had been able to laugh together like friends, even times when they had just admitted together, in unison, that something had gone wrong with the world, something had happened to them that had turned them into twisted, manipulative creatures, fallen too far from grace maybe to be saved. But right now, Cy just sounded strained, wary. Just like he always was these days around her, knowing what she did to him, what effect, what influence she meant on his friend and boss.

"I tried that. He won´t answer."

"Well, you do know what I think of all this, Liv..what I´ve always thought of it since I walked in on you all these years back."

Silence fell again.

"I just…need to talk to him. Not to mess things up Cy, but to fix them."

He got to his feet, turned, regarded her. "I am not sure there's much that I can do, Liv. Or should."

"Please try."

He gave her another long look, never giving an answer, and then walked away leaving her back at square one. Of course, she thought. Of course it would not be that easy. But the humiliation that came with begging for an appointment, it stung. There had been times when…but those, those were just the times that had led to trouble. And the times she missed more than anything else. Times when things would work out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There were times when things just worked out so smoothly, pieces falling into place with soft clicks, one by one, creating a picture that showed just what brilliant architect had created it, with patience and skill. Eli loved these moments. There had been one, recently, when Olivia had asked about the plane and another, when the president had given him his old job back. And now there was another of those wonderful glorious moments when everything, to the tiniest detail, worked his way just ever so perfectly.

The room was bare apart from a single wooden chair set up towards the back, another near where he was standing and a stereotypical lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Several floors underground the square grey concrete room was made to swallow screams and had before, had proven helpful. Maybe it would again. No windows, one steel door.

Eli pulled his chair closer and sat down on it, resting his elbows on his knees he leant forward slightly, regarding the man before him for a few seconds. He wondered if the other had already figured out who his kidnappers were working for. He had been out for about an hour, would have been, but the sedative had lengthened that time period a bit, had woken up with a rather nasty cut on his temple and a black hood over his head, the kind they used in countries that openly, not covertly used torture and these kinds of hoods to veil the faces of the ones that were executed to their slaughterers. But this was America after all. Work like that was hidden. Nobody on the surface to get their hands dirty. The hands that signed contracts and treaties against torture, for spreading democracy, for widening liberties, those hands did not like doing the dirty work. That was for his kind to do, but this would be one of the time, Elis told himself, he would enjoy it. And if nothing else, right now he could always justify he was merely executing favours. Of course, it was and always had been up to his own interpretation and goodwill how to execute these. His thoughts went back to a phone call he had had the other night.

_The voice on the other end he knew too well and when he had replied, he had put on the neutrality he had learned to enact around the man who had never deserved his daughter. _

"_What an honour, Mr President."_

"_I need a favour." Fitzgerald Grant had said._

"_I´m all ears." He had been indeed, leaning back in his chair._

"_I want someone on the no fly list. Effective right now. I know you can arrange that." He had said the name of the man who was now sitting before Eli. "I don´t want him on American soil."_

Eli had smiled. Interesting developments. He had known that Jake was with his daughter and while he had not particularly approved, it felt good to listen between the lines of what the President was saying. Maybe he knew Olivia had not left the US alone and this was the other man´s boyish kind of revenge. The alleged most powerful man in the world and he´d have to delegate such things. To people, Eli knew, that he thought he could trust. That was just another pleasant side effect of the unpleasant but necessary thing that had happened a few weeks earlier. It was a pity for the young life, but it had felt good to watch the boy-man suffer. It had felt right. _The lord giveth and the lord taketh_ he had told the president after he had buried his son, and the other man had had no idea that he was implying at his own hands in the game. Grant had, since he had put him back on his old job, blindly, childishly trusted him. Much to Eli´s own advantage.

He had had half a mind though to actually follow the president´s order. Put Ballard on the no-fly list, just keep him out of the way. After all, he had been Command and nobody ever stopped being Command. Ballard might believe B316 dissolved but if he came back and noticed it was not…well, Eli had little interest in some unnecessary power struggle he knew he would win. But this wasn´t just about his personal agenda. This was about treason. As long as he was outside of the country, safely tucked away in the EU there was no getting at Ballard, but the man´s decision to fly home for whatever reason had put him back into Eli´s grasp. Yes, indeed, things were working out well.

Eli gave a nod to the man standing behind Jake´s chair. Wordlessly, the man took the hood off Ballard´s head, making him blink against the glare of the bleak light bulb. The cut didn´t look good and the cuffs added to an image of misery, but Eli felt no pity. He just felt anger.

"That´s unexpected," Jake groaned, clearly he probably had one hell of a headache.

"Oh is it?" Eli asked, leaning back in his chair. "What do you make of this situation, Jake?"

"Why don´t you tell me?"

There was no smile on Eli´s face. "Nobody ever stops being Command." he said, his voice a dangerously low rumble. "And that includes that treason is out of the question." A pause. "There is a whole lot of material missing, Jake. Folders. Information about operations. Things, you know, I would not like to see in hands where they don´t belong which is _any_ but yours or mine. We both know that, I trust. You´re a clever guy after all."

There was the trace of a joyless smirk on the younger man´s face.

"Is this a vendetta?" he asked.

"No. This is justice. This is punishment for treason which you still have the possibility to weaken. I might not hurt you quite as much. Where are the folders, Jake?"

The younger man gave a cough that sounded a bit painful.

"What." he then said. "you want to put me back in the hole?"

"I fear it´s otherwise occupied." Eli replied coldly. "But believe me I am quite resourceful. It would not be very wise of you to test me, Jake. So…" he edged a little closer. "I am sure you can give me a name. A place. A locker key. Anything, Jake."

He felt stared at, that was all he got now. Then: "My flying here has been registered. People will notice my absence."

"Oh will they? Like last time? We both know that´s nonsense. And officially you´re now on the no-fly list, my friend. Orders from the very top. I wonder why. Just the same as I am wondering. About. Those. Folders." He took his time, enunciating every single one of those last words carefully.

"We have been through this." he said. "You know I don´t break easily."

A cruel chuckle. Yes, Eli thought, he clearly had this situation under control. "But break you will I am sure."

Jake tucked on his cuff briefly, chortled. "is this some kind of personal revenge? Because I was with her? Olivia? Because of the things I could tell you about her?"

Eli laughed a joyless laugh. "Oh, I have had a discussion just like this one before, with another man, with me being on the worse side of the game and that argument I won, don´t doubt for a second I´ll win this one, too. I know perfectly well where my daughter is. Where she ought to be, on the other side of the Atlantic and the same goes to you because you, my friend, made a grave mistake by giving this information away and now it´s time to pay for it."

He had hoped his words to be threatening but to his mild irritation the other man almost seemed to smile. "You know perfectly well where she is?" Jake´s voice was dangerously low. Probably there was some fear mixed into it because he knew Eli was serious about his threats, but a good amount of it, was satisfaction and what Jake said next, sent his mind reeling. "When was the last time you checked, old man?"


	11. Chapter 11 -Visitors

**Author´s note: Wow, I was really overwhelmed with the numbers of reviews I got till my last update. Thank you very much all of you, reviewers but also the people who just drop in here to read. I am glad so many are enjoying this little story. :)**

**ShaunV76: Sorry to disappoint. ;) We shall see how that turns out.**

**LoreneMichelle41: Hehe, I guessed people wouldn´t have a problem with this. ;) But it was also a nice idea to toy around with and logical to me. Jake´s return to the States was maybe a bit foolish, seeing what chaos he left there. **

**Clio1792: Wow, thank you so much for all your reviews. :) I liked your remarks on power, hammers and nails. Very true that. And I would imagine it´s not easy being in that position, especially if there are people pressing a more militarist agenda, to try and keep a cool head. Which Fitz is not doing for other reasons but I think it makes the situation quite clear, at least I hope it does. On love: I always saw Olivia as someone scared to reveal all about herself as well and I think that has partly stood in the way of her relationship with Fitz, because both of them tend to be closed up at times, her more so than him even. On Eli as the schemer behind it all: I think sooner or later she will have to realize that. And we´ll see what comes of that… ;)**

**Jennkyle: Thanks. :) Well, there were a few options, I liked the idea of Fitz still trusting Eli, it would make Jake´s capture all the more purposeful because it´s not just Fitz he has against him, he also pretty much ratted on B613**

**Apollonialust: Thanks and never apologize for long reviews, I really like reading your thoughts on the chapters. There is quite some emotional wreackage that Liv and Fitz have to work through, yes. Great take on Cy there, absolutely true,he knows what it means to have to hide a relationship… And on the reviews. I like to answer to them,g ive back a little something to the reviewers. Also, it often leads to an interesting exchange of ideas. :)**

**Umusarah: Good to see I could surprise you with that twist. ;) And yes, they definitely need to talk. Thanks for the review. :)**

**DayDreamLover: Sorry to hear I am causing you that kind of disress but I´ll take it as a compliment, the way you wrote it. :) Glad you liked the Eli / Jake interaction, I was trying to convey a feeling of hostility there that has to remain somewhat subtle for starters because none of these two would back down. **

**Chapter 11 - Visitors**

It was strange to not have a home in Washington DC. She had used to have two, now there was none. Her old apartment gone, and OPA was not exactly a place she felt comfortable going right now, mostly because she believed that the place would probably be mostly deserted. People showing up infrequently Abby had said, Harrison seemed to have vanished for the moment and Olivia wondered whether this once more was her doing. That this was just a friend deciding it would be good to withdraw from her altogether. Harrison was a smart guy after all, but still, the thought hurt and she could not bring herself to driving to the office, scared of the emptiness she might find there.

Therefore, back to the hotel it was. A fancy place, nice enough, a large bed, but the room to her seemed sterile, loudly screaming ´not home´. Not her apartment. Not the OPA. Not the White House. She would not allow herself to think of the place like that, but it felt like home, too. Had felt. Some rooms more familiar and bound to memories than others but still, far from a sterile, unpersonal hotel room.

She had made it through about roughly an hour that conversation with Cy still on her mind, before she came too restless to focus. She had to come up with a plan to see Fitz, would see him, Cy be damned. The problem was, however, that Fitz was probably hurt, would deny to see her and damn his job that was what he very well could do. If he didn´t want to see her, there were literally troops to keep her from him. As she thought that, she noticed her own bitterness directed at herself. They had to work things out. Somehow. But it certainly wasn´t the best of possible starts. She had wanted to call him again and noticed that she was merely waiting for the sun to set, knowing he´d be occupied during the day, his schedule usually letting up some after dinner.

Another hour later and she had decided she would not call yet but try again the next morning. Give him time to calm down. Appear reasonable, as little of that reason as she felt right now. As she wanted to feel right now. But right now, sitting alone in that hotel room, she felt lonely, deserted, in need for a friend. She had tried to make contact with one today who had understandable thrown himself between her and Fitz…but she had other friends as well. Friends she had disappointed and left alone. But once more, for the second time within a day she dialed the number of her best friend.

"Abby?"

This time there was no accusation. Whether it was the better connection of the call or just her tone of voice or intuition, Abby did not argue, but connected the dots.

"You will tell me where you are right now, Olivia Pope." Olivia could tell her friend was trying to sound more reproachful than she managed. "I´ll be right there."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Olivia was sure her friend had been holding a grudge and rightfully so, but still when Abby arrived about 45 minutes later she proved once more to be a true friend, bringing a bottle of wine and the offer to pay for some pizza. "You have some nerves, my friend," she told her as Olivia opened the door, apparently trying to show that she was not entirely okay with her taking off and then showing up again. But Olivia could tell the other woman was far too glad to see her to be able to keep up her anger. A moment later and she felt herself pulled into a hug that was maybe a bit too forceful, then Abby gave her a small push back into the hotel room and closed the door. "Seriously, tell me everything. Where were you? Why? And why are you back now?"

"That´s many questions at once, Abs" Olivia gave back with a faint smile as she took the wine bottle and placed it down. "I don´t think this place has glasses…"

"I brought paper cups." Abby almost interrupted. "Where ever have you been, Liv?"

"Europe."

"That´s like saying ´America´. That´s an entire continent to pick from, care for some details, honey?"

"Vienna."

Abby paused to purse her lips in a mix of surprise and endorsement. "Not that I appreciate your bolting head over heels on the rest of us, but..nice. What did you do there? Left us for another team?"

She could tell Abby was trying to lighten the mood some, but Olivia knew her friend well enough that sarcasm was the other woman´s way of expressing anger, despite the rather light tone. Also, her mentioning of another team almost made her wince. Never, she thought. Could never form another team like this. Yet, she had tried.

"I just…had to get away from all this", she tried, somewhat helplessly.

"Well, and far away you went."

Olivia just gave a sigh. "I guess."

"Was it anything I did?"

"What?"

"Well, why did you leave?"

"It´s complicated, Abs, I wouldn´t even know where to start."

"I guess. I mean. You had a pretty okay life here, dashingly handsome and incredibly smart friends, a slightly messed up job and …well, let´s forget about the men." She made a face and grabbed the wine bottle to open it.

"Abs…"

She turned to make another probably somewhat snarky, humorous remark about men no doubt and one in particular, when she stopped in her tracks, her mouth falling open. "Oh my God!"

"What?" Olivia felt somewhat suspicious.

"It´s because of _him_!"

"Who?"

"Grant!"

She tried to raise an eyebrow in confusion, but even though she knew the topic would have to come up earlier or later, she had certainly hoped for later. Maybe after wine had had time to dull the effects of the sting this conversation could hold.

"The freaking president?" Abby clarified, obviously misinterpreting her confused face or attempt thereof. "Did they make you leave, Liv? After… you know…all the things that… "

"Abs…"

"I knew it. You know, really, what good can come of a Republican. And a married one at that."

"Abs. Nobody _made_ me leave. It was my decision."

Abby opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You were working for him again. And once he wins the election, you disappear? Sounds strange to me."

"He lost his son, Abby…"

Her friend finally poured the wine, handed her a cup and sat down on the edge of the small sofa in the corner of the hotel room. "How about we don´t talk about these things right?" she suggested with a sympathetic smile which however told her that Abby had never understood what it was between her and Fitz. "Just two girls hanging out tonight, talking, how about that?"

After a moment, Olivia nodded. "Sounds like the best thing I´ve heard in days," she said, trying a smile, then sat down as well, kicking her shoes off. She hadn´t done that all day and it felt good. She looked at her paper cup. "Anything we should toast to?" she asked.

"New beginnings," Abby said at once. "because you´re off the hook tonight tomorrow I´ll so be dragging you back to what´s left of OPA. We don´t function without you, you know that." And with that she took a big gulp.

Whatever else Olivia could have said to that to what..talk her out of that? Agree? She hadn´t thought beyond seeing Fitz yet…was lost when there was a knock on the door.

"Expecting a visitor?" Abby asked, somewhat alert while Olivia suddenly felt what little security her friend´s presence and the anonymity of the hotel room had built up vanish, plummeting somewhere into unknown depths. Her heart beat increased almost painfully, her first thought almost petrifying her: Jake. Had he followed her so quickly? So easily? For a brief instance she called herself a fool. She should have acted; she had been talking to Huck after all. Why had she not acted right then and had Jake put on a no fly list? Stupid!

"Don´t you…want to get that?" Abby asked and she noticed she had indeed just been staring at the door. She got up, slowly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. Jake. She thought. It was surely Jake. But what if not? A sudden spark of hope. What if it was…

The door had no peephole so she slowed down again, tried to listen. Another knock. Then. "Olivia?"

The incredible relief that came with realizing it wasn´t Jake on the other end of the door mixed with the gut wrenching confusion the voice evoked inside her. What?

She didn´t wait, but opened the door, staring in disbelief at the woman who was outside on the corridor, a suit clad agent waiting a little down the hall.

"Mellie?!"


	12. Chapter 12 - Revelations

**Author´s note: Aaaand another big thank you to my darling readers and reviewers. New chapter is up, I hope it makes sense. :) Writing dialogue is something I am still practicing, I feel my strength is more with interior monologues and descriptions. Anyways, enjoy. :)**

**Umusarah: Thanks. :) And yes, that´s why I like Abby a lot, she has this blunt, sarcastic streak which I can identify with pretty well, especially when it comes to political remarks. ;) As for Mellie…well, this might turn out a little differently than you expected. Have fun reading. ;)**

**ShaunV76: I was just joking with the disappointment thing. :) Thanks a lot for your compliment and we actually share this dislike for Jake. Yes, Liv definitely needs a friend..things are quite messed up there…**

**Jennkyle: Thank you. Good to see that came as a surprise, I like to have a few surprises up my sleeve. **** Enjoy.**

**Clio1792: Thanks. There is definitely quite some stuff yet for Olivia to discover which is going to make a lot of things not too pleasant in the near future. This chapter starts with some realizations there, even though not in the direction of her father, but that will come eventually…**

**Najee79: Thanks for your review, I think I´ve not seen you here before. Welcome. :) Heh, that makes two of us. Mellie is manipulative in a dangerous way, in the end it´s about her but in subtle ways and that´s what makes her dangerous. She doesn´t shy away from using family and friends to achieve her aims. On Abby: Well, Abby is a complex person and I guess right now she just understood that Liv needed a friend but no worries, there will be bumps along the road for sure, things won´t go all smoothly of course. ;) Let me know, if you like, what you think of this following chapter, it does have quite some interaction there, hope you like how it turned out. **

**LoreneMichelle41: Hehe, just wait and see what Mellie is up to. Hope I´ll be able to surprise there. ;) And yes, Liv certainly has lots of explaining to do and as usually, if it rains, it pours…**

**Tracie Denise: Thanks a lot for your review. :) Wow, thanks. I always hope I´m able to write the characters believable, nice to hear you like my version of Papa Pope. Mellie and no drama? ;)**

**Guest: Whoa, some strong language there. You´ll see how it turns out. I hope you enjoy. :)**

**Chapter 12 - Revelation**

„Mellie?!"

Olivia didn´t know what she had expected, who or why. Cyrus maybe? He had his ways to find out where she was, it would have been easy for him even though after today´s conversation him showing up would not have made much sense. Jake at worst. Fitz she had barely dared to hope, but she realized in this moment when her heart did a painful leap right down into her gut, hopes crushed, that secretly she had been hoping just that. She inwardly scolded herself for that.

"Whoa." While she was still staring at the brunette two steps away from her, Abby had gotten up to check if everything was okay. The hotel room was not too large, so maybe she had seen from where she had been sitting, it was hard to tell. Mellie´s eyes darted over to the redhead, then back at Olivia, an expression on her face that was difficult to describe. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

"Well, ma´am," She could tell Abby was now standing right behind her, audibly taken aback by the appearance of the First Lady, but Olivia could hear a mix of anger and defiance in her friend´s voice. "Whatever it is, Olivia doesn´t mind her best friend staying so I think I´ll stay. What´s going on here, Liv?"

Mellie ignored that and Olivia could tell the other woman was on edge, her fingers twitching lightly as she stepped from one foot to the other, that same expression on her face she always got when she wanted something. At once. "Can I come in? Please…"

"Liv…"

"Abby, could you…just for a moment…?"

"Really, Liv? You can´t have a chat in front of your best friend? As in the person who just…" Olivia turned around and gave her friend an apologetic look. "Please, Abby, it´s…" How was she to explain? She hated to do this, wanted Abby here, but her gut told her it was important this was a talk just between the two of them. Mellie had apparently taken the brief exchange as an invitation and stepped in, followed by her agent.

"Whoa." Abby said. "If I leave, so does Agent K."

The agent looked unfazed but now it was Olivia´s turn to cross her arms in front of her chest. "I agree. The two of us only, Mellie." she said. The other two women were frozen in what seemed like an almost dangerous stare down for a moment, both focused on her. It felt uncomfortable, almost hostile and sadly, even more so from her friend than from the woman who had and always would see her as a threat. Why was she even here? Then Mellie gave a short, quick sigh. "It´s all right, Michael, I´ll be fine. Wait outside." The agent gave her a look, hesitated another moment or two, then tossed a glance over at Abby. "Ma´am?"

Abby rolled her eyes, almost storming out of the hotel room, followed by the man. Only the fact that he was to leave the room probably avoided a dramatic slamming of doors. What stays, was silence. Mellie took her time to walk into the room, then she sat down on the sofa, the same spot Abby had been sitting on. It crossed Olivia´s mind for a moment that this little detail, even though accidental, would make her friend even more mad. She´d have hell to pay for this later. But she had to know…

"How do you know I´m here, Mellie?"

"I have my ways." The other woman said, watching her. Her expression was not fury, not anger, but almost a plea. If it hadn´t been Mellie, Liv might have described it as apologetic. Olivia remained standing.

"Cyrus?"

"Yes."

"Well, he didn´t seem too eager to know I´m in DC."

"I… I talked him into telling me. Olivia, you need to come back."

Olivia felt her mouth drop open and herself gulp for air for a second.

"What?"

"We… you´re a valuable asset at the White House, Olivia, you always have been, we need you back in your old job. You know how things work, you…"

"Mellie, you have excellent staff over there, why are you here?"

She could tell the other woman was uncomfortable, almost squirming.

"You won the election, Mellie, my job there is done…" She could feel an ounce of pity for the other woman. Not for everything that had been between them, not for the countless of times the First Lady had insulted and yelled at her, but…she, just like Fitz, was a parent still grieving for a child. Therefore she softened her tone. "…you have a lot to handle, Mellie…"

"_He_ needs you." Interesting rephrase, all of a sudden. "He…he´s falling apart, Olivia. He´s moody, he´s … unable to do his job at times."

"That´s hardly got to do with me, Mellie. I know what you two have been going through recently and I am sorry. It would be wrong for me to intrude…"

Suddenly the other woman jumped to her feet. "Intrude? When has it ever felt wrong for you to intrude on him, Olivia? On me? _On us. My family!?"_

Olivia did a step back. Not because she was being intimidated, but because right now there was no way she felt like she wanted to be yelled at.

"Mellie…It was time for me to get some distance from…"

"You were always there! Always there, with your hands down my husband´s pants." Mellie was speaking through her teeth now almost. Silently and sarcastically, Olivia wondered what the newspapers might make of this eventually. This was not exactly a sound proof room. "You never listened to me asking you to back off, you just did what was convenient for you. But the one time he needed you, when he for once really needed you…"

For once? How did this woman even know the man she claimed to love?

"Convenient?" Olivia could tell her own voice was starting to feel strained, partly because this was taking a toll on her, partly because it was becoming an effort not to scream back.

"You had a job, Olivia. You ran away from your responsibilities. This is a professional matter!"

"No it is not. I left when I had to. You know this. And I am not discussing this with you. I am not the…monster you try to make of me." Now she was raising her voice. Not as much as the brunette, but still. They would have to keep it down or the neighbours would be getting quite a show. "Because I am not. I stepped aside in a professional manner, because intruding on a family grieving their son would have been just as wrong as you accuse every single of my steps to be."

Her eyes widened. "This broke him, Olivia. Literally broke him. I hate to admit you have powers over him that I don´t but your just leaving crushed him when he was already down. You saw how he looked. You…."

The other woman broke off mid sentence, a look of almost shock on her face. Clearly she had not wanted to give that away. A second passed, two, three. Pieces were painfully assembling in Olivia´s mind.

"The photos…" she then said, realization dawning, her voice low, almost choking. "You sent them."

Her opponent´s eyes flickered. It was all the answer Liv needed. She felt herself grow cold. Furious. How dare she? Stand here, indirectly claiming she was doing this for love, making herself so low she approached her husband´s lover for help while she had in reality just manipulated both of them. Hired someone to snap pictures that even the world had never seen and Fitz undoubtedly didn´t know about. Using him as a prop to get her back to make him function, to play her strings, her weaknesses, her biggest weakness that was him… When, Liv wondered, would people ever try to stop and manipulate her, to stop and decide what was "best" for her?

_You will get on that plane, come hell or high water as her father said._

_Take me with you, let´s start a new life as Jake had said._

_Come back, come back, because I gracefully allow you so. Mellie._

"Out."

"Olivia…"

"Get out of this room, Mellie. Now."

She had no idea where she was taking the calm from amidst all the fury, not even knowing what angered her more. That she once more felt manipulated, even though she didn´t doubt that eventually she would have come back now or the way this woman had exposed the grief and anguish of her own husband. Probably….likely…surely, the latter.

"I did it for his sake, Olivia, it was the only way I thought you would…"

She didn´t even care how she had known and maybe, Olivia realized in that moment, this was another reason for her anger. Mellie had known where she was, Mellie had had her watched, Mellie had decided when the right moment was. Oh how she hated to be everyone´s puppet.

"Don´t. Play the loving wife." She knew she was getting to levels now she didn´t want to ever get. "I swear to you, Mellie, get out. You expose him…I have my ways to expose you if you don´t. Leave. Now."

Another second, two, then Mellie abruptly turned and strode towards the door. No other word, the knowledge of the weight of the sum of secrets they shared weighing her down, silencing her. Not even another glance and then the First Lady was gone. Again, no doors slammed. Quite unlike Mellie.


	13. Chapter 13 - Schemes

**Author´s note: Writing the first part of this chapter was some mean wicked fun in a Lady McBeth kind of way. Interesting new p.o.v., I hope it worked outs somewhat. Also, I hope that Fitz´ motivations for what he does at the end of this chapter are clear not just to me, but to readers as well.**

**Umusarah: I would agree on the Liv leaving in the worst of moments, yes, that much was clear from the last minutes of the show as well which I think was quite powerfully and heartbreakingly done with the almost chipper song while he breaks down on the Great Seal in the Oval. It will indeed be hard to get past this, but that´s the challenge about writing this. :) The reunion is getting closer. ;) **

**ShaunV76: Hah, well, that would´ve been a show now would it. And yes, actually I have been thinking long and hard about this chapter because Liv would probably not just follow Mellie as we saw or stand in front of the White House and bang against the door. So that was a bit complicated to arrange…**

**Clio1792: I can see her point as well, even though I dislike Mellie a lot. I think however that all of this is such a tangle of a messed up thing that it would not do Liv justice to claim she didn´t feel about Fitz. I believe she did. I believe she did so much that she left, that what she did was indeed altruistic, at least she had planned it at that. And I think he absolutely does need her because in a world of politics I believe he was sort of tossed in to (even though I do not favour the idea of him just being manipulated, he´s a smart guy, and that is me the liberal speaking here…) she is sort of his anchor of sanity and loyalty and even that breaks at times which is devastating for him as it is for her because in a way he has the same function for him. Her family is just as dysfunctional as his after all…They´re birds of a feather in more ways than one.**

**Guest: Well, I am not a fan of easy solutions to complex storylines like that. Also, in the lights of current events, I would find it rather distasteful to use a plane crash as a means to an end of getting rid of an unwanted character. I am sure you understand. **

**LoreneMichelle41: I sort of find it fascinating from a writer´s point of view that this is a lot about manipulation and betrayal, you caputered that nicely. And thanks. :)**

**Jennkyle: Thank you :) Well, yes, I hoped that little ruse made some sense. And I had a really nice weekend, thanks for that. :)**

**Reneeharris49: Thanks a lot for your review. Hm, about Mellie working with Eli, we shall see… And yes, that would be a wicked alliance indeed. I promise it won´t take much longer to have the reunion, I´d bet on chapter 14 ;)**

**Chapter 13 - Schemes**

There were moments when Melody Grant wished she could control her emotions. She had never been very good at that and that knowledge made her mad at times. Emotions could often either mean weakness as well as power whereas control over one´s emotions, using them as one wished, meant unlimited power in manipulation. Unfortunately, she did not possess the latter. This moment when she was figuratively kicked out of the hotel room by…_her_…gave her another painful realization of that very quality she wished for but lacked.

Helplessness was warring with anger, despair with humiliation. Surely that woman had to know what it meant for her to come here, to bow so low before her. If it was for Mellie, she´d avoid her, she´d make sure they never crossed paths but now and then one had to make personal sacrifices. Mellie only wished, stubbornly, that the day might come where it wouldn´t always be her to make sacrifices. Where it wouldn´t always be here to keep things together.

She could have walked out on all of this. Maybe should have, long ago, but life as a First Lady had its benefits and lures and she had never been a timid woman. She had been hurt in the last years and beyond, hurt and humiliated and exposed in ways she did not wish upon most others, but she had always taken that as the price she had to pay to be who she was. Who they were. Power was a powerful drug. It made her go to lengths and do things others might consider below their dignity, because these others were unable to grasp that power and a good life came at a price. And for the price of a good chance to set Fitz right again she had exposed him. Sent those pictures. But was it exposure? Really? This…_whore_ had been the only one seeing these photographs, it had been discreet, sent to her new hideout instead of plastering it all over the media and masking it as a leak of some yellow press reporter like she could have done. Instead she, Mellie, had shown wisdom and made herself the scapegoat once more, for his sake.

She had not wanted to do that to Fitz. But Olivia, she was aware had seen her husband in situations more undignified than that…what harm was there in it? And it had served its purpose. It was merely the backlash Mellie didn´t like. The backlash and the price. To heal him, she had to get her. _Her_… If only that woman wasn´t so valuable to him… But that was the world she lived in, the world that made her thrive. Value and favours and sometimes biting back to be able to survive in an ocean full of sharks.

Her head held high, she didn´t wait for the secret service agent to follow and pointedly ignored the redhead whose name she didn´t bother to remember and who was leaning against the wall of the hotel corridor, arms crossed. There was no need for glances to meet, it was one of those moments where it was a good thing that looks couldn´t kill – but Mellie did not bother about the other woman´s resentment, quite the contrary: it gave her a pleasant little thrill to know that it was very likely that the stranger would compensate for her humiliation by giving his mistress a hard time. Sure enough, she had not even turned the corner when she could hear the other woman walk back to the hotel room, steps too brisk and determined sounding to be in a good mood.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Two hours earlier:_

Not for the first time he envied his daughter and not for the first time he felt guilty for it. Karen had excused herself from the table as soon as she had finished her dinner and neither of them had had the strength to start yet another fight over the teenager´s reluctance to remain in the same room with her parents, because after about a dozen fights of that nature they had finally understood that it was not her parents´ presence that made the girl uncomfortable; it was her brother´s absence. That one chair remaining empty at the already large dining room table, meaning when she looked up, she´d not see Jerry´s face but just the wall. Maybe that was another reason Karen kept looking down at her plate nowadays. Tonight, she had barely been at the table for 10 minutes, ignoring or unable to appreciate the chef´s futile attempts to cheer the mood with a fantastic chocolate pudding for desert. Fitz couldn´t blame her. Yet for him, there was no escape. But that was nothing new and the phone call from the night before had effectively robbed him from the small indulgence to escape into simple daydreams.

"I talked to Cyrus earlier."

He could tell from her tone of voice, deliberately neutral and almost soothing, that there was something more to it, that she expected him to participate in that conversation. He did not much feel like it and bet she was very well aware of that.

"Yeah?"

She had clearly waited for Karen to leave the room to bring this up he knew when she carefully set her cutlery down, heaving one of her typical sighs. "He is worried, Fitz. We all are."

He just gave her a look. "He told me about yesterday." She continued cryptically.

He had pretended to be mostly interested in his desert which he had not shown much interest in so far, but now he looked up, sharply. "Yesterday?" She kept eye contact.

"That you were beside yourself in the meeting with the Joint Chiefs…"

"So good old Cyrus is reporting back to you about my state of mind these days?"

"Fitz…"

His voice became more firm, colder then he intended he noticed but he was on edge, had been for a while. "You´re the First Lady, Mellie, you´re not one of my advisors, this, frankly, is none of your business."

She almost flinched at his tone, then recovered quickly, apparently having braced for this reaction. It annoyed him. Maybe he was not being entirely fair, but many things annoyed him today. He knew perfectly well why this was so. "I am also your _wife_, Fitz so when you are not okay then it is very well my business."

He snorted. "What do you expect?"

A pause. "You have a nation to lead, Fitz. You need to…"

"…function?" He almost snapped and by the look in her eyes he could tell he had almost finished her sentence the way she intended. Maybe not with this word, maybe she would have sugarcoated it, but still. He could tell he had struck the very core.

She sat back, leaning against the back of her chair. "I know how this sounds Fitz and I know what it is like to go through all this, and it sounds cruel to say it that way but…you cannot let your emotions get in the way of …"

"I have just buried my _child_, Mellie." Now he had raised his voice. He inwardly prayed, unable to rewind and redo his reaction that Karen had indeed gone to her room and did not listen, her ear on the door, as she had done at least once.

"_Our_ child." Now it was her turn to raise her voice. "But we know it was not just that that affects you Fitz…"

"Not _just_ that?" He couldn´t believe his ears. "Are you really trying to turn this into more of a sham than it already is, Mellie? Do you really think that this is the right time to bring this up?"

She had jumped to her feet, cutlery clattering against the china. "I am _not_ bringing up your mistress. Fitz. It´s not her this is about. It´s about the weight of the world on your shoulders and that´s why we need to be selfless and focus. I am worried about you because around us the world is sinking into more chaos and it only harms if we stand still."

"And since when are you so involved with foreign politics, Mellie." He bellowed. "What, did you watch the news and get scared about your publicity? Bad press once you´re the wife of Mr Weak Foreign Policy?" He was yelling now.

She tossed her napkin to the side, glared at him, her mood switching on that dangerous, unpredictable path from soothing to hysteric. "I´m getting scared about you, Fitz. About all of this. About where this is headed and how things spin out of control."

"Welcome to my world, sweetheart."

She just stared at him for another moment, then turned abruptly and left the room while he himself felt like he was trapped inside an involuntary review of the dinner scene in American Beauty. He sunk back on his chair, sighing, kneading the bridge of his nose with two fingers, but the dull feeling of helplessness did not let up.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Please tell me you have not been sitting here like this since dinner."

He had. How long had it been? A look at the clock told him. About an hour. He knew perfectly well because glancing at the clock had become a favourite thing to do during awkward family dinner time and he had known exactly at what point Mellie had stormed out of the room. Fitz looked up. "Did Mellie send you?" he asked. Cyrus shook his head.

"Where is she?" In her private bedroom he guessed. Pitying herself over the injustice of the world and shattered dreams of being a First Lady that had the perfect life in a world without election fraud, backstabbing and betrayal.

There was hesitation in Cyrus´ eyes. "Mr President you should get some rest." That alarmed him.

"Where is my wife, Cyrus?"

"I was waiting in front of the Residence an hour ago. I could hear you, all the way." His Chief of Staff´s voice was low, almost dangerously low. "I think it is best if the two of you take a breath."

"Oh? She just told me that you were gossiping to her, so how about returning the favour."

"Mr President…"

"Where?"

"She…left the White House. Not…for long. She will be back, Sir."

"What?"

"Sir…"

He got up. Ignored Cy and walked past him. There were a lot of unfaithful crooks in this building, but there were still some that would answer to his call of loyalty. He knew Tom was on duty in front of the Resident´s main entrance and by the way Cy scuffled after him, he damn well knew as well. The younger man was standing right next to the door as he opened it. "Tom. I am sure you can tell me where my wife went."

"Yes, Sir."

"Well?"

"She took security detail, Sir. A hotel not far from here."

He could feel himself freeze, sounds muffling in his ears as his head spun while Cy caught up with him. "Mr President…"

He did not even turn around. Did he care? The spreading cold in his veins gave that illusion but maybe he was just sick and tired of being used for people´s benefits. Of being played. Of people pretending in front of him. Just like his own wife had just pretended she worried for him, but the moment he blew her off she would.

"Tom, two cars tops, no motorcades, no flags. That´s an order."

The man didn´t even hesitate. "Yes, Sir."

"Mr President…" Now Cy sounded almost panicky.

Fitz turned to face him. "Is she off to see _him_?"

"What?"

"Oh, don´t play stupid, Cy. We just fought you know that, and now good old agent Tom here tells me she drove to a _hotel_?"

"Sir, she will be back…"

"No, you know Cy… You guys want me to be able to get things off my chest and function, then I think we´ll get this settled right away."

He didn´t even know what he felt. Betrayal maybe, once more. First Liv the night before, now Mellie… Not that he could bring himself to care for Mellie as much as he should, but still…it was another lash with the whip. "I suggest you draw up a list of new VPs tonight, Cy, because I´m about to fire mine. As I should have."

"What?"

Fitz ignored that. He wouldn´t have Cy play dumb right now. What did he care for what Mellie did, that she apparently had used their earlier fight as an excuse to flee the premises to be with Andrew in some hotel because that was the only thing he could explain that away with? Well, all the better, he thought sarcastically. Time to get a few things out of his system. Time to show her he knew, that his suspicions these two were back at it were true. He´d confront them, then fire Andrew and that would give him a satisfaction he hadn´t felt in weeks. Caught in this thought, he didn´t notice, Tom had stepped next to him. "The car will be ready in five." he said. "This is risky Sir, I´d advise you to change into something more…normal. Add a cap."


	14. Chapter 14 - Approaching, reproaching

**Author´s note:**

**Aaand on we go. Once more, thanks for all the kind words and reviews and those who just read and enjoy. :)**

**ShaunV76: Yes, yes, she did, without intending even though that´s what she came for, didn´t she? I doubt Mellie will like how this played out. :)**

**Umusarah: Well, maybe I didn´t manage to bring this across properly. My idea was that Fitz, hurt by the day´s events, is clinging desperately to his own pride here. Mellie´s supposed betrayal is not what hurts him, he merely needs something to restore his pride and catching them together would do that, would give him some (admittedly childish) satisfaction. Fitz is not always the most reasonable of people either and I guessed that in this situation, Mellie running off was just the straw that broke the camel´s back. **

**Najee79: Well thanks. :) As I said, writing Mellie was fun in a way, because she is such a Machiavellian character IMO and yes, she needs a moment like this maybe, butI am not yet sure whether that would be her character…she´s more the kind of person that if she loses her pride, she´ll go down with flying colours…**

**Rachgreengeller: hehe, yes, indeed. ;) Thanks and here you go. :)**

**Jennkyle: Yes, I wanted to highlight that, because the show never really focused on the kids and I thought it would be worth reminding people that Karen is still there, probably having a terrible time dealing with all this. Thanks for the review. :)**

**Marilyn Prescott: Thanks so much for your kind words and it´s great to see I managed to keep you on the edge of the seat so far. Hope you´ll keep enjoying it. :)**

**Guest: Stubbornness. He says "wife" to make a point. The man is fighting for his pride and standing here, it´s the subtle things that bring this across. And I am not sure whether you were the same person reviewing last time, but whether or not I get rid of Mellie is up to me for this story. Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: That´s exactly what I wanted to bring across with Mellie´s point of view, that she is absolutely ignorant of others there, in the end she is one of the most powerhungry characters in the entire show which in my opinion makes her extremely unlikable. Well well, stuff might be hitting the fan indeed. Thanks for the review. **

**Chapter 14 – Approaching, reproaching**

"We should remain in the car, Sir."

Tom tossed a glance into the rear view mirror, meeting the president´s eyes straight on. The man looked different in his grey sweater and baseball cap. He had seen him like this before, usually when working out, even though not when, like here, cruising through the night on some stupid mission to follow a possibly unfaithful wife. Tom knew he was not exactly acting according to Secret Service protocol. POTUS was not to be let off the grounds like a teenage boy on a rampage, there were security measures to be followed. But then again, he guessed that injecting the president´s son with something that would kill him or reporting whatever went on in and out of the Oval Office during his presence to Command did not exactly go well with said protocol either. Thus, what he was doing, ushering the president out of the White House surely broke a few rules. But Tom Larsen had been answering to a new master for a while and that master was not the head of the Secret Service…

"That´s out of question." his boss replied, voice dense, authoritarian. "My wife found a way to get in here, undetected because if not the media would already be here which they are not. She can´t be alone. Contact the agent who´s with her. I´m sure you can figure something out."

"Yes, Sir."

He tapped his ear piece, knowing precisely who the agent was that the First Lady would trust with standing guard while she was frolicking around with the upcoming Veep. These people, he thought, were just batshit crazy.

"Mike."

"Tom?"

"I need your location, Mike."

"I´m off the premises, there isn´t anything more I can say. It´s a covet mission."

"I disagree." Tom said. "I´m with POTUS. We´re in front of the hotel. How did you get in? Unseen."

There was a pause. No doubt the younger agent was considering whether he was in a situation to rebuke his superior, coming to the conclusion he should but could not.

"There is a service entrance on the back, door is open, leads up to a fire escape where you can get into the second floor undetected."

"Mike? I need the room."

Another pause. There was no doubt to Tom as to what was going through Michael´s head right now. The pause told him enough, it was all the confirmation he had needed if he had ever doubted his instincts. The younger man was standing in front of some hotel door, wishing he was elsewhere, knowing full well what was going on inside.

"There is none." Tom raised his eyes, but kept silent, knowing the president, even though he could not here what the other agent was saying, could of course hear his every word and he didn´t like it when the president was fully informed these days. "We are on our way back already."

If that was a tete a tete, it was a short one, Tom thought sarcastically. He scowled, thoughts racing through his mind. "What about the VP, Mike?"

"At his home, I guess? What´s going on there, Tom?"

"All right, thanks." Again, aware that any sign of bewilderment could give away that they were on a wrong trail, Tom ended the connection, knowing the other agent would be confused, but that was worth it. Another thought had entered his mind. What if the president had had it wrong all night? If it wasn´t the Veep that his wife had been looking for here? Tom narrowed his eyes slightly, regarding the hotel´s front. The coast was clear, at least with regards to the Misses. But…maybe…

It had been just a few hours earlier that he had received a call from Command. The operative: stay put, but if there is any sign of Olivia Pope, report back immediately. Whatever that meant didn´t matter to Tom, he was just following orders, but it was always nice to be able to give Command what he wanted. And it looked like the First Lady had just made his day…Once more he met the eyes of his boss. "Well?"

"She´s upstairs. Keep your head low." He drove around the building, heading for a small parking lot, undoubtedly usually used by delivery. "We´ll be taking the entrance at the back."

There was some risk that this was a dead end, that the First Lady had been looking for someone entirely off his radar, but he was willing to take the risk. Mike had sounded awkward and that was likely to mean one thing… that the First Lady had been seeking out Olivia Poke and that she was still staying in this hotel.

These two, Tom thought, the president and Command´s daughter, were a mess and after tonight he wasn´t so sure that if POTUS had known who was inside the hotel he would have kept pursuing. Thus he had to lie, pretend that the president´s suspicion might be right, but a little lie would probably take him to the young woman and however things went, there would be a few seconds for sure where she could be bugged … Christmas might be coming early this year. Agent Tom Larsen suppressed a smug smile.

OOOOO

This time, the door did bang.

"What the hell is going on here, Liv? What did she want here?" There was this tone in Abby´s voice, this don´t-you-dare-bullshit-me which Olivia could so very well understand but which she wished she didn´t get this very moment. She needed a friend, desperately, maybe mostly because she was wondering whether she even deserved friends who would come to her with wine and snacks after she had run out on them. But then again, why did she always have to justify everything? In front of everyone? She was an adult, she was old enough to make her own decisions. She spun around, meeting the glare of her redheaded friend. There wasn´t just anger in Abby´s eyes, there was also concern. Worry, that emotion that Abby tended to disguise in a temper.

"Abby, I´m fine, this is…"

"…private?"

"It´s difficult."

Her friend made an exasperated motion with her hands. "When isn´t it? I mean…the stuff we have been through together and then you suddenly come back and hide in some hotel and then the First Lady comes tapping on the door and the whole hotel can hear you yelling at each other like a couple of cats and…" She suddenly paused in her frantic monologue. "…It´s _him_, isn´t it?"

"Abs…"

"It´s all about _him_! I mean…you two…still…again? Liv!"

"Abby…" But there was no way to easily interrupt her friend when she was in such a mood.

Surprisingly, Abby´s expression changed from anger to fear. "Liv are you being threatened?"

"What?"

"That´s why she was here, wasn´t it?" She opened her mouth, closed it, dramatically. "That´s why you left. _They_ made you. This is… You help them win the election and then they kick you out like a used, old shoe. And now that you dared come back she tracks you down and… Seriously, Liv I…"

"Abby!" Now her voice was so loud that it broke through the other woman´s barrier. Abby froze, stared. "I did it." Olivia´s voice was barely a whisper. "I…I left. There was…nobody threatening me or making me. I left, because it was my own decision, because…" She paused. No, her friend didn't deserve to be part of this mess, but then again she deserved at least a little bit of peace of mind. "…I was…I was just tired of messing up people´s lives, Abby. I was…tired of everything around me being nothing but a mess. Many bad things wouldn´t have happened if it wasn´t for me."

Maybe a little part of her had hoped for understanding, for a hug, right now. But it didn´t come. Not this time. Instead, Abby´s features change ones more and now she looked…hurt.

"Yes." Abby finally said, her voice low. "Many things would not have happened without you. I for one would probably still be the jam making, ever shushing wife of an abusive husband. And that´s just me. I think everyone in your circle of…friends has a similar story where you made all the difference. For good. But you just decided to walk out on us, Liv…"

"Abby, please…"

But Abby held up her hand. "No." she said, shaking her head and moving towards the door. "Liv, maybe you need some time for yourself, to see why you are really here again and…maybe you´ll remember there are friends who are there for you. You know where to find us…"

And for the second time in less than half an hour, Abby walked out of the hotel room, but this time, even though the door didn´t slam, it hurt all the more.

With a heavy sigh Olivia sat back on the bed she had been sitting on earlier, propping her elbows on her knees, burying her fingers in her hair and allowing herself a few deep sighs. She wanted to cry, wished she could because right there, that moment she realized she had hardly ever felt so alone. She had not expected her return to go over smoothly but so far everything had turned out a dead end.

She needed rest, her usually strong voice of sanity told her. Rest to rationally, calmly thing of ways how to…how to make amends with all the people she had hurt. Something that felt like it couldn´t wait and that she knew had to wait another night and that would keep her up, tormenting her, reminding her that by leaving she had just made things worse…Where to even start? Where to start piecing together a life when that life was a mess that she had herself crashed into a thousand splinters?

Air…she needed air. All of a sudden, the hotel room felt restricting, small, even though it wasn´t, really. The evening had progressed considerably, turning into night slowly, even though she had no idea of the precise time. Nine? Maybe ten? She knew she would have to live with the torment of the coming night before she could go out, talk to people, best starting with her friends at (probably formerly) OPA and then, when she had talked some sense with them and because she needed time to figure out how to face him: Fitz. Oh how she missed Fitz. And how she had hurt him. She knew she had. She knew him too well to make any illusions over that.

But no matter how bad the night would be, she needed fresh air first. Just once around the hotel, for pacing inside the room would be impossible to stand. And so she grabbed her coat and it felt like she was running again even though that flight only went from bed to hotel door and then she was through.

Heading out, she revised her idea on the current time. It was probably a little later already, because the corridor was quiet, there was no chatter to be heard from adjacent rooms, the guests seemed for the most part to have gone in for the night. Somewhere she heard a television, probably set to the news channel, but the corridor itself was empty, emphasizing the not too modern but clean carpet and wallpapers that she thought were just a little out of style. She locked her door and turned right, towards where she knew the elevators were, her step hurried, running, running again but knowing there was nowhere she could run but outside. And then she turned the corner that she knew led to the elevator and all of a sudden the corridor was no longer empty. She stopped in her tracks immediately, felt her mouth drop open, her heart beating painfully against her chest after missing a beat or two when she saw him.

He might have fooled whatever hotel personnel he had sneaked past, but he´d never fool her. She knew his stride too well. He had seen her, she knew, as he, too, stopped, frozen in place, his eyes under the cap looking sunken and pained and darkening a little more when he saw her. It hurt her to know the reasoning for that pain that had been added today, was her.

"F…Fitz?"


	15. Chapter 15 -Things left unsaid

**Author´s note: The muses are in a good mood so here is the next chapter, quite soon already. Enjoy :-)**

**LoreneMichelle41: Oh yes, she´ll yet have to deal with a lot of retaliation there, bit by bit. Things aren´t that easy…As for Tom: Totally seconded. ;)**

**Umusarah: You´re welcome. And yes, I used to like Tom as well. :/ Well, yes I think that´s one of the problems of their relationship, she just has this destructive tendency to hide her emotions, whereas he is much more of an open book. I bet that has to be frustrating for him.**

**Jennkyle: Well, I figured things need to come at a price so…Rowan will soon know where she is. It won´t make things easier at all. ;)**

**Cleo: Aww. :) Well, maybe this chapter can remedy. A little bit. We shall see. :)**

**Chapter 15 – Things left unsaid**

People said that time was a funny thing – sometimes stretching endlessly, emphasizing a moment, sometimes rushing past. As she stood there in the hotel corridor, Olivia made the experience that people were wrong: it could be both at once as well. The pain and confusion on his face mixed with emotions she could not decipher, every second lasting a minute to her, making her feel what he must be going through but at the same time, time seemed to rush, to be of essence. He would leave, she suddenly knew when she saw a hardening of his features; he would leave and turn his back on her and never talk to her again. He would, any second …

His frown deepened some more, then he did what she would not have expected. He did a few determined, brisk steps towards her, grabbed her wrist against her protest.

"Where is your room?" His voice sounded pressed, so it would not quiver.

"Fitz…!"

"Where, Liv? I don´t think causing a scene right here would be a smart idea, don´t you agree?"

There was stubbornness in his voice that told her that he _would_ risk a scene. He was in a moment beyond caring, if people heard them, if they stepped on the corridor to see the President of the United States yell at her, he would let it happen.

"512" she hissed, keeping her voice down, her heart beating so loudly that she was sure at least that would rouse the other hotel guests. "Fitz I…"

"Shut up!" He kept walking briskly, checked the room door numbers quickly as he want and she ran a bit to catch up with his stride, found he was walking in the correct direction and walked on.

He was angry, she could tell. It seemed a logical reaction, but it made him unpredictable in a way that challenged her own temper. "Fitz, stop!" she hissed. The agent had caught up with them, but he was reacting astonishingly calm. Fitz tossed him a glance. "Wait here." He said, then held out his hand. Olivia gave him her key card and he activated the door, his lips a thin pressed line and then he stepped through and dragged her after him, then let go of her wrist and she almost stumbled into the room, whirled around, facing him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He kept his voice down, she could tell, but knew him well enough to be able to tell when he´d rather yell.

She felt her mouth drop open, frowned. "What?" she asked, almost snapped. "You show up near my hotel room…why…" Why would he ask her that? Unless… She felt her spirits thing. He had not know she was here.

"You were looking for Mellie." A statement, not a question. He just looked at her, chest heaving, he was almost shaking and he didn´t answer her question. The answer probably didn´t matter anyways. But she could tell he was struggling, trying to figure out priorities. So many things to ask, so many issues to settle. And as his mind must be reeling through all of those, discarding the mystery of why his wife had known of this down the lane of things to be dealt with later, Olivia could see the anger vanish from his face, giving way to … hurt. She instantly knew she would have been able to handle his fury a lot better.

"What…" He broke off, shook his head, started again, his voice sounding almost helpless. "What are you doing here, Livvie?"

She took a deep breath. There was no way to deny it, no necessity to change her answer, to alter it in any way because there was just one. "I had to come back."

He was just looking at her, still standing near the door. "Well…I had hoped that." He said. "I really hoped that when you called."

"Fitz that was…" But he shook his head and she stopped.

"When I heard your voice … that was the best thing that happened in the last weeks, Liv."

"For me, too." she almost whispered, feeling her lips curl into an almost painful, sad smile, realizing it was because she hadn´t smiled in a while.

"So goddamn it Liv…" he said, and his voice became more livid again. "Goddamnit why was he there? Why would you call me with him…"

"I didn´t plan on him to…"

"Oh of course you didn´t. So why did you call? Huh?" He had started pacing. "To ask if I was doing okay while your…boyfriend was waiting in another room?"

She knew him so well that she knew he was using some of his words to hurt, to get out his own anger that were piercing his soul like needles.

"I called because I needed to hear your voice, Fitz. I called because I needed to know how you were doing."

"How do you _think_ I was doing?" Now he was almost yelling, the lines in his face tight. "How do you think did it feel when you just ran off? Leaving everyone, everything…."

Now it was her turn to interrupt. "Back then I had to, Fitz. I just…I had to. For your own sake."

"My sake? I needed you." He was now no longer caring to be overheard or not, his defenses down, his heart and soul bared to her. He had suffered, she could see with brutal clarity. Suffered alone. "You left when I needed you." He shook his head. "And to know that…..you were with him…"

He had every right to be angry, to be mad, to yell at her, to lash out, she knew she deserved that, yet there was another part of her, desperately trying to make him understand. Why was it always about others and about what they felt? Did she not deserve a little happiness, a little normalcy, too? Not with Jake, hell not with Jake, but didn´t everyone have a right to deal with things in their own way? To run when sanity demanded it? She opened her mouth with a gasp that, a few minutes later into this might have been a sob. "I…I didn´t plan on this. I planned on nothing of this, Fitz. I just….had to run. Not just for my own sake."

He just looked at her, standing there, completely forlorn, looking weak and weary, so very weary in his jeans and grey sweater. He had work a cap earlier she recalled, noticing now that he had flung it away into a corner, maybe when they had entered the room. His hair was slightly ruffled, from the cap no doubt, but to her it just added to the look of being utterly lost. She knew he would show himself like that to no one, only her. It pained her all the more.

"Livvie…" That one word carried all the emotion of the world, a world that had once more narrowed down to just one room and even less, to just them, her and him. And that world was in disarray and she desperately hoped it was not too late to save it.

"I am sorry…." she whispered. "I am ….so sorry Fitz. I just….I couldn´t…."

She didn´t know how he would react, he was an enigma to her in such situations, the time apart even though it had been mere weeks a sudden gulf with him that she was not sure he was willing to swim across. There was no way of telling what he would do next, but what he chose to do made her choke up and she could feel tears well up in her eyes, blurring the features she had grown to love years ago when he stepped towards her.

So much left unsaid, so much pain in his embrace when he closed the gap but not the gulf, hugging her to his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head with a sigh that sounded a lot like a suppressed sob. So much between them that needed to be dealt with and that both of them knew. So much that had to be yelled, to be shouted and argued out to get it out of their systems but in that very moment, brief as it might be and soon as it might be over again, all that faded behind the desperate need for comfort.

There was a reluctance in his touch but yet she could tell he had no other choice than embrace her because what he had said had been true: he had needed her when she had left, had needed her so much. She buried her face against his chest, feeling the tears come, wetting the fabric of his shirt. "I´m so sorry, Fitz…so sorry…"

He just sighed. Just held her close, a painful embrace not physically but emotionally. He knew she did. He knew she felt sorry. But that didn´t make things easier. Not at all. His embrace didn´t let up when he spoke, his voice rumbling against his chest, vibrating softly against her face, at the same time comforting and upsetting. "I can´t breathe without you, Liv. I just…can´t."


	16. Chapter 16 - Manipulation

**Author´s note: Sorry for letting you guys wait a little longer for a new chapter this time, but I had to mull this conversation over in my head a little to try and get it right…hopefully. Also, my week was busy, cause I have a social life and all that. ;)**

**Jennkyle: Well thanks for the nice words. :) And i´d agree on the jeans remark. ;)**

**LoreneMichelle41: Yes, yes, they do. There are a lot of stored up things that need release and I do not mean to sound dirty here. They just need to get down to the core of this.**

**Cleo: Aw, sorry there. Neither do I, but there´s so much stuff they need to sort through. Let´s hope this offers a somewhat decent beginning. **

**Guest: ~hands you tissue~**

**Umusarah: Call me mean but I see readers´ tears as a personal accomplishment, mwahaha. :) No seriously, thanks for the compliment. :) **

**Jourdan: Well, you might like this chapter then. :)**

**Guest: Thanks for your remark on the end of the last chapter. And yes, I am tired of B613 too, but unfortunately problems just disappear.**

**Clio1792: Thanks for your reviews. :) Really like the "comedy of errors" remark here because yes, this is partly it, absolutely. And nope, running away is certainly not the solution.**

**Guest: I guess there was supposed to be a review there? ;)**

**Chapter 16 - Manipulation**

"I can´t breathe without you, Liv. I just…can´t."

Her face buried against his crumpled shirt brought back memories, emotionally painful as this moment might be, making her heave in erratic sobs, but memories of the comfort he had given, of how good and secure she had always felt in his embrace, sometimes reluctantly so. She could feel her fingers clasping the fabric of his shirt as she tried to calm down the shaking of her limbs, unable to do so, her own emotions mirrored by his. There was so much pain in this, so many things that needed to be sorted out but bigger than all right now, the need for closeness, at least for a moment. But even when he spoke, he still held her, despite his own raw emotions as she knew, gently swaying as if to sooth her, his head still rested on hers while he was probably staring at a random point near the window.

"I didn´t think you´d come back_." _So few words, so many things between the lines_. I thought you would, when you called me, but then I heard him and my hopes crumbled. Because you tore them to pieces._

"I know."_ I´m sorry. So sorry. I never wanted you to…get hurt by all this. _"I had to. I couldn´t…stay."_ I am confused, no idea where I am going, because you´re my anchor, you´re who holds me upright and steady. _

He sighed. It sounded constrained. As if considering whether or not to approach this sensitive topic. Whether he should swallow his pains or address it head on. Whether it would cause unforeseen damages. "Well you….found _someone_ to stay with after all…"

She stepped away. Drew away from his embrace with an effort and it pained her but she felt the need to address this, head on. Fitz was merely looking at her, and for a moment he looked broken and Olivia wished he would just yell it all out so they´d have a row, a good old row to cleanse their minds and hearts of pain.

"I didn´t plan for that, Fitz. I never …"

He narrowed his eyes, just a bit, cocked his head. "Help me to understand then what you had planned, Livvie."

She heaved a short sigh, did a step back, brushed a hand through her hair. "I don´t…I don´t…didn´t know..I ..just had to leave."

His facial expression became a tad more skeptical, now clearly mixed with disbelief. "You didn´t know? I´m not buying it, Liv. The Olivia Pope I know _always_ has a plan and a backup plan, she always knows how things might turn out and what to do if they don´t go the way she anticipates them." He did a step closer. "The Olivia Pope I _love_ is that strong, confident woman who always knows how things are supposed to turn and how to make them work. How to fix things." His expression had become more confident as he did a step towards her. She stood her ground. He didn´t touch her, just looked at her, slowly pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans the way he always did when feeling (or pretending to feel) suave. There might even have been the hint of a smug smirk on his face and oh how she liked to see that but it seemed out of place, like she didn´t deserve it right now.

She opened her mouth, closed it again, shook her head slightly. What was she supposed to tell him? That this was just what she had wanted, that she had wanted to fix…_him_, because she had felt beyond fixing _them_? But she had seen so much pain on his face already, she felt cruel about knowing this might add to it. She stayed silent.

He lowered his eyes with a sigh. "For all the years I´ve known you Livvie…when have I ever seen you speechless?"

"Fitz, it´s not that easy to explain…"

He suddenly looked up, his face pained. "Well, why don´t you try? Why don´t you just give me a chance? Because guess what, unless you do you´ll have to let me draw my own conclusions." His voice had risen, not into the gruff bellowing he´d take with her or Mellie or anyone that managed to upset him to that point, but with the almost desperate tone she knew from the moments when he really knew no way how to handle a situation. Like back then, ages back it seemed to her now, in the White House garden when she had accused him of owning her of leaving her no space to breathe…and he had snapped all that back at her, exposing his most inner feelings and biggest vulnerability.

"Fitz, please…"

"No, Livvie, now _you´re_ listening to _me_. Because if _you_ don´t explain _I_ will have to. Because you just left when I needed you. And Jake was there, convenient like he´s always there when…" He broke off and Liv, unable to take the pain he was flinging at her, desperately trying to protect himself from it, broke in.

"Jake came with _me_." She said, now doing a step towards her. "Not I went with _him_, Fitz." She braved his gaze even though his jaw was set in stubborn anger and pain.

"Well, you ran together for all I know. Disappeared all of a sudden."

"Can´t we just…Fitz, Jake is not even in the picture here."

"Well, he´s in the picture for me." He snapped back, his voice clearly raised now as he flipped up his arms. "He´s been in the picture ever since I heard him in the background because that gave me a lot of room for speculation, Livvie. Of what you two might have been up to while I was…worried sick for you and wondered what the hell made you leave. Quite a cruel thing because your voice exactly what I needed to hear. So why…" He broke off, drew in air sharply, she could tell he was bracing for any possible outcome of his next question. "Why did you come back, Livvie? Why did you come back?" The next sentence lost quite some of the softness of his voice. "You seemed very eager to leave. Just on the top of your head, nothing planned at all. That´s not my Livvie."

She felt something break inside her, the emotional pain just becoming too big because she felt like she was not just feeling her own but his too, because right now Fitz seemed all too eager to make himself hurt. Her, but most of all, him.

"I left because I needed to fix things, Fitz!" Now it was her turn to raise her voice and she did, wide eyed, doing a step towards him. He didn´t flinch. "Because yes, I always know what to do, at least I did. I always knew. I always trusted my gut… I always…fixed things. I just never fixed…me…._us_. And…and all those things happening around us, happening around _you_… I realized none of it would have happened, so many…things would not have broken beyond…fixing if it hadn´t been for me to break them first."

He shook his head, pained, not quite understanding.

"What are you talking about, Livvie?"

When she drew another breath she could feel her breathing being shaky, about to break, but strained herself against it. "Me." She said. "you. Us. B613 and my father. My mother trying to kill you. That church… your….Jerry…It all comes back to….I am…I am the eye of the storm."

He just stared at her, mouth open, his eyes full of incredible pain as her own vision blurred. "You…" he said, his voice even, steady…or was it? "didn´t kill anyone, Liv. That was your mother. That were others. Terrorists. Not you."

She could feel a tear fall down her face. She had chosen to run from it all, run from the terribly oppressing feeling of being the root of all evil, that she had chosen the false comfort of a man who as it seemed merely manipulated her to the only one she had ever truly and insanely and fully loved. How could he possibly understand?

"They surround me." she whispered. "And thus us.. I … how could I ever fix things like that? Just by… by leaving and not looking back and taking all that with me."

He sighed, instead of doing what she secretly hoped but knew she didn´t deserve, embrace her again and make the pain go away or at least lessen it. He sat down on a chair, the same chair that Abby had been sitting on earlier. Looked up at her. "It´s not just _you_." He said. "it´s _us_. You can´t fix _us_ if you try on your own."

"When was there ever … really an ´us´?" she asked. She couldn´t bear looking down at him and sat on the edge of the bed. "There is you and me but…all the things that keep us away from an…us."

He just looked at her, silently, but she read all kinds of things just in that gaze, not all of them were encouraging and soothing. She thought of Vermont and was sure so did he. She thought of how good they could be together, the things they could do, the things they could achieve and change if only it wasn´t for….so many things. So many people. So many sins of the past. Mellie. Cyrus. The presidency. Defiance. Betrayal. Death. Lies… But _love_…didn´t love count for anything? She had believed once that love could overcome things. Overcome obstacles. But did she still?

"What about love?" She nearly flinched, touched by how in synch their minds still were, how he would conclude his thoughts the same way. "What about everything we´ve been through? Damnit Livvie, I am mad at you. I am hurt. Because knowing you´re with him after you ran away when I needed you is killing me but here I am talking about us and talking about _love_. And…even though I am mad I am so crazy for you that I´d do anything. Because I can´t function like this." He broke off, blinked. She could tell he was trying to hold back tears and she felt dreadful. About how she was contributing to his pain. "Why can´t we just…why can´t things just be easy…"

_Because you are the leader of the free world,_ she wanted to say. _Because you have a country to run, because you have international crisis to solve, because you have to lead by example, because you should not have people get you off track for dirty laundry they might find. Because you have a wife who…a wife who…who is ready to use you just to get you to function again._ That thought, that turn of thinking changed everything. Changed her pain into anger…against … _her_. How could she have forgotten? How could she have pushed Mellie out of her thoughts already after she had pretty much kicked her out of the hotel room mere minutes ago. And she was certain now, all of a sudden, of _something_.

"You didn´t know I was here, didn´t you?" she asked, her voice suddenly low.

Fitz just looked up, met her gaze, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"I… I thought Cy had told you I was here." She went on. "but you were looking for Mellie, weren´t you?" Saying that gave her a stab through her heart, right through the core. What had happened while she had been away. Had the loss of a child, the shared trauma of the rape bonded these two together, had Mellie been able to finally tie him to her? It was cruel thinking of things in such a way but this was…Mellie. He looked away from her and she knew she was right. And she interpreted the avoiding of her gaze as…guilt. It hurt. She got up.

"What are you doing?" he asked, remaining where he was.

She walked over to her purse, opened it. He needed to know, she thought. If she had managed to get him away from her during her absence, if she had somehow managed to turn him against her, since he had not been looking for her and when had he last cared for Mellie enough to throw security out of the window and dash out of the White House at night like a schoolboy, then she would go down with her head held high. She cast him a glance, bracing herself for whatever reaction she might get from him. "There is something you should see." She could tell her voice sounded terribly bitter, accusing even, but was unable to control that part of her. He had just been talking about _us_ but it hadn´t been _her_ he had come to this hotel for.

He furrowed his brow in confusion as she took a folded piece of what seemed to be some sort of paper from her purse. It was folded twice and about the size of her hand. By the time she had unfolded it and slowly stepped towards him she was sure he must have identified it as a photograph even though she was sure he had never seen it. She handed it to him. He turned it, his face turning completely confused. "What is this?" he asked, almost whispering.

"I got these in the mail a few days ago. It´s not the only one."

"This was taken at…" She knew how he could tell. How would a father ever be able to forget the details of his own child´s funeral? This one was a close up from the side, but he´d be able to identify his clothes…and the pain edged on his face. "I bet whoever sold this to a newspaper fetched a fine price for it…"

"Nobody did."

He looked up at her and she once more couldn´t bear to look down but crouched down so their eyes were level. "I…came back because I realized I was selfish when I…when I saw this. But … it was not just a cruel joke to send me these. The person who sent them wanted me to come back. And I can tell it wasn´t because that person likes me too much to have me be away." She couldn´t tell him. And yet she knew he needed to understand even if it hurt. Because he was part of the pain, he was still clinging to Mellie, had run after her tonight but was talking to her, Liv, about love. He needed to understand that she had acted out of despair when leaving, not selfishness, that she had wanted to protect him, that she had been tired and unable to cope with any more emotional suffering, too, yet that she was maybe one of the few people who even cared for his feelings but that there was in particular one who didn´t care for his feelings at all. And who had recklessly used him to get her back. Who would call on someone she had frequently called a ´whore´ (and that included mere minutes ago in a way) … not because she felt sorry and wanted to help, but because she was willing to sacrifice her so called love for prestige. Because she wanted him to function again. Because how could one be a glamorous First Lady if your husband appeared like a broken man who lost control of everything? So she had called Olivia back. In cold blood. Just that. Function. And how was that even love but a love for herself. Narcisism. Nothing more?

He looked at the picture, stared almost, then looked up. "Mellie…"e waFitzsdasdasd


	17. Chapter 17 - Control

**Author´s note: Hello everyone, thanks fort he reading, the reviewing, the liking. :) My muses felt on a rampage today, so here´s an update I feel reeeeally rather good about, mwahahaha. Have fun.**

**Reneeharris49: Well, I´ll take that as a compliment, because I think making the emotions real is what makes a good story and I am glad to see it works for you. :) Yep, yep, Mellie again. Let´s see where this chapter takes her. ;)**

**Umusarah: Half sorry half thrilled here to cause you heartache. ;) Thanks for the reviews and yes, there are quite a few issues for them to deal with. Let´s see if this chapter gets them started on that…**

**Jennkyle: Heh, nope, I´d not want to be in Mellie´s shoes either. Thanks for the wishes, I had a good weekend. :)**

**IAMSCANDALLOVER:Thanks a lot for the compliment. :) Whereas I did enjoy season 3, I can still see where you are coming from. I am trying to give the characters the depth of emotions that I think they deserve but while I am writing often find that too many things in season three went unexplained with regards to the characters´ reactions and actions. Hope you´ll keep enjoying this. :)**

**Clio1792: Yes, and I think somewhere, somehow they do realize the "us", it´s just difficult for her to see through all the wreckage. Hehe, I sense some criticism in fixcal irresponsibility in this review. I am sure the Republican in Fitz would be aghast. ;) Thanks for your thoughts and review. :)**

**Cleo: Hehe, yes it is and they will need some time for this…Hope you´ll like where this chapter goes. ;)**

**Guest: I am not sure how this review relates to the chapter… help me out there?**

**Jourdan: Well, thank you. :) I really hope you´ll like the new chapter, great to see readers enjoying themselves. :)**

**LoreneMichelle: Yes, I am sure she did turn to Jake. Because that´s what the show suggested which makes writing a season 4 idea kind of tricky because you have a lot of stuff to sort out, thank you Scandal writers. :P Hope you´ll keep enjoying. Thanks for the review. :)**

**Chapter 17 - Control**

„Mellie…"

The word was barely more than a whisper, a breathed mutter of realisation as he looked up at her, his head starting to spin in the direction it had just managed to steer away from when he had held her, his Livvie, in his arms, minutes ago. _What the hell…?!_

The evening had taken several turns for the better, the worse and the painful, mostly the painful. First he had once more found that, despite his stubborn insistence that it wasn´t so, he didn´t have complete control over his emotions these days, because that was the only reason he could see in following Mellie, circumventing most of the Secret Service for that, because for that moment, back at the White House, after all that had happened and most after….that phone call…had happened, he had felt like he needed something, anything to save his dignity, any small victory to take out on someone. Andrew had seemed a perfect target. It would have felt so good…

And then there had been _her_…the woman he wanted to see most and least of all, who had once more torn his heart in two by just simply appearing out of nowhere it seemed and the confusion, the painful joy of seeing her again had clouded his understanding of what was going on, so he had been unable to make the connection between Liv´s presence at the hotel and Mellie´s. It had not mattered all of a sudden why Liv was back, only that she was. It had not mattered how much it hurt to see her, to hold her, to talk to shout at her, to fling at her all the things that had been stuck in his throat and heart ever since she had left…that she had left him when he needed her most, that she had been cruel, that it had hurt to realize she was with…Jake…and all those unspoken, unuttered things that had driven him to the brink of insanity on top of losing his own flesh and blood mere weeks ago…no, none of that had mattered, he noticed, because even arguing with her meant that she was_ there._ Even though she had said she doubted there was something such as them, even though she had this weird notion of needing to fix things in the strangest ways possible when it was about them. Oh he could understand her, partly he could. Her need for perfection and order, her longing…but he had begun to doubt over the last weeks whether she still returned his feelings the way he knew she used to. And this evening, talking to her, had not given him the reassurance he had needed. It had soothed him, but not healed him, leaving the thorn, the tormenting question why she had come back. Why now? Why play this game or was she even playing games? It wasn´t her to play games. Not with him. She wasn´t Mellie.

And then, all of a sudden, the conversation had taken an even stranger turn when she had connected the dots, when she had understood that he had not come for her, but for Mellie, even though it wasn´t so. He hadn´t come here for Mellie, he had come here for his pride, to restore some sanity and take back some power that others had so often suggested had been slipping from him, drained from him. For a moment, staring at Liv, he had not understood her sudden bewilderment and the pain in her eyes and then it had clicked. She believed that in the time she had been away there had been renewed bonds between him and his wife…maybe through the shared grief, maybe through the now open trauma of rape between them…It made sense, that fear, and at the same time it felt like an insult for all they were, for all he and Livvie were and had ever been; this crazy, dangerous, insane, completely twisted problematic and wonderful love. But before he had been able to wrap his thoughts around this delicate insult, she had jumped up, drawing her own conclusions about his presence, obviously believing he had bonded with his wife again. Seconds later there had been the photograph. He had never seen it before but he had realized at once what it was. And her words had provided the rest.

"I…came back because I realized I was selfish when I…when I saw this. But … it was not just a cruel joke to send me these. The person who sent them wanted me to come back. And I can tell it wasn´t because that person likes me too much to have me be away."

"Mellie…"

The pieces fell into place, making his blood rage. How could she, why would she…? But it was so, _so_ Mellie. The things she had flung at Liv, the times he had been standing between the fronts while Mellie would probably have wanted nothing more than attack, destroy…blinded by her own twisted, weird notion of loyalty and marriage that meant all the glory for her but none but that, it seemed… yet still…when she had needed Olivia, she had been all soft words and cooing and smiles. When she had needed Olivia she had known how to use her…and she had used _him_ as a bait to make her come back. To make her…function. So that she wouldn´t have to appear to the world as the First Lady of a powerless presidet. _Power_…the word drifted through his mind. That woman would sacrifice anything for power. He got up. Liv followed him with her eyes, her gaze flickering.

"Fitz…?"

"I need to leave." His words were tense and it pained him to see she took this entirely against herself as she got up, eyes now nearly panicking. "Fitz I didn´t mean to…"

He held up a hand, touched her shoulder, she froze. How could he make her understand, he wondered. How could he make her understand that these two women were driving him insane, that he was mad at both, but that he was so much more mad at his wife? Because he didn´t quite feel like letting her in on all his feelings, feeling he needed to keep some to himself to…protect himself. He felt so hurt.

"Please Fitz I…don´t leave…"

They both knew this was a strange thing to say. This was a middle class hotel, there was only one agent outside and he was the leader of the free world. He couldn´t just decide to go wherever he wanted…but the words were more than that. _Please don´t leave from my life_ was what she said. _Please don´t turn your back on me. I am scared to never see you alone again If you step through that door. _He couldn´t bear the pain in her eyes, it nearly choked him. He opened his mouth, closed it again. "I…I need some time, Livvie." His voice sounded hoarse, almost helpless. "I…give me some time."

She was close to tears, so afraid he could tell, nearly shaking and, confused, hurt and mad as he was he could still not fight that protective instinct and once more closed the distance between them, hugged her close, pressed his eyes shut as if to try and …he didn´t know. Comfort? Soothe? Reassure himself? When he broke the embrace, he saw she was crying. He could feel his eyes sting. He was not in control of himself. He should set things in order, one by one, sort things out more rationally than he was able to but..couldn´t. Affection, he could feel, affection for her, was sweeping wildly over the anger he felt for her…drowning out, almost, the more intense anger he felt for Mellie. But that anger was there…it needed to be dealt with before anything else. He felt himself reach out and gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. He could tell she was biting her lip not to sob. "Give me time." He said. It seemed almost a mantra that he kept repeating, reminding himself of what he needed right now. Time. Time to think and get his world in order. Time to deal with things. "Give me time, sweet baby…." It seemed almost like whispering sweet nothings to soothe both him and her but knew these words meant so much more to her, to them. He knew he had to leave, leave now or plunge himself into an even greater mess. The way she was looking at him was threatening to break him so he broke eye contact and looked down where he was still clutching the photograph. "I need to borrow this…" he said, dully. She only nodded.

His thoughts were in a blur when he left, affection staying in the room with her, rage taking over as soon as he left, taking long strides that made his agent hurry to catch up.

Mellie had returned to the White House in a mix of emotions, but deciding with that strange ability to appear upbeat and sweep bad things under her emotional carpet, to feel good about this evening. What had she expected from that woman anyway? Surely not a welcome with open arms. Olivia Pope, despite her pretending so, had never understood the finer workings of power and sacrifice, of compromise and smiling at those that could be useful for you. So she had been yelled at, but she had yelled herself but in the end, Melody Grant was sure, it was Olivia who had had the shorter end of the evening. It didn´t seem like she was on too good footing with her friends these days, because as Mellie knew, she had left all of a sudden, giving them a heads up (something Fitz had never gotten but yet she claimed she loved him?!) but no more than that. Stating the facts and leaving, what a selfish thing to do… Therefore, she was certain that Olivia Pope´s return to DC was to be a bumpy ride. Friends mad at her and, as her sources told her, that little agency of hers on the brink of dismantling. Plus, the woman had been in a foul mood which might mean one thing: Olivia being back surely meant that no matter how desperately low and hurt Fitz felt..if he knew, they would have talked already, over the phone. Suddenly Fitz snapping at the Joint Chiefs made sense, quite some.

Sitting on a comfortable sofa in the east sitting room, facing the big, round window, Mellie smiled. That call could not have gone well. It would explain why his whore had not indulged in any proud, smug talk but nearly literally kicked her old. Oh yes, if things were bad, they be bad, but they better be worse between her man and that whore. All in all, a painful day but it could have gone much worse. Fitz was probably in his private study or down in the Oval, mulling over things like he should and hopefully, finally putting an end to this strange infatuation of his once and for all. A few scratches were a small price if this affair could finally be put to rest, if he finally got it out of her system. Where would this man be without her to realize this whore was no good for him. A distraction, a whirlwind of unpredictability that had long enough destabilized a man that was hers, Mellie´s and that had more important things to do than sort out yet another emotional mess. Some people did not have any sense of reason…

Yes, Mellie decided, It felt good just sitting here, licking her wounds but knowing that this time she would come out of this victorious.

And suddenly, so inappropriate for that high, good feeling of victory…the bang of a door. She jumped, turned.

"Fitz!" She sounded reproachful, he had startled her and it made her angry. "Where have you been, what are you even _wearing_?" He looked upset as he strode in, never pausing, determined steps towards where she was sitting in a way that intimidated her, almost scared her. He was wearing jeans, a shirt, he must have changed clothes after dinner and….where the _hell_ had he been?!e waFitzsdasdasd

He stepped close, then past, then, with a sudden move that made her wince slammed something smack on the small and (like everything in this place) expensive coffee table. "Care to explain this, Mellie?"

She opened her mouth, still mad at him startling here, just storming in like that, closed it, looked at whatever the hell he had brought in. It was a photograph she knew all too well. It didn´t shock her to see it. Or maybe, the shock was just drowned out by anger.

"Where did you get that?" she snapped.

"You know where." he bellowed back. He was in a bad mood, no preamble, just going from zero to full blown verbal attack. She could tell.

She could feel the taste of victory be ruined by the bitter taste of bile rising in her throat. "You went to see _her_?"

"Well, thanks to you, Mellie, you led me there!" Every single one of his words was yelled and she matched her volume to make herself understood, connecting the pieces. He had followed her after she had left the White House? That was…good, she supposed. Not what she had planned because all plans were best if Olivia Pope was at her controllable distance, but..still. He had followed her, he still cared for his wife! Before she could respond, he was at it again.

"What the hell did you do, Mellie? Nothing is sacred for you, isn't it?"

She got to her feet, anger almost blinding her. "How dare you turn this against me?" she snarled. "You know the pain I went through? I made this sacrifice for you, Fitz. Can you…can you imagine any wife in their right mind going to lengths to get her husband´s whore back? Because that´s what I did, Fitz. I got her back. For you. So you can finally fucking get your act together."

She had been unable to stop herself even though she had seen how his lips had tightened and his eyes had blazed when she called that woman her rightful name, the word he despised her using.

"It´s all about this for you isn´t it?" he yelled. "All about the power. How the fuck can you be so cold Mellie, wanting me to smile after we just lost our son!"

"That´s not what kept you from functioning" she snapped. "What broke you was not that and we both know it!"

The tension was feelable in the air, two wild cats circling one another. Surely, the Secret Service was once more trying to awkwardly ignore the shouting…

He got closer. "No.." he shook his head, almost quivering with anger and for a moment she thought he´d strike her but no. He never would, that had never been Fitz. He never got close enough fort hat, kept his distance, shaking, trembling. "You…" he breathed. "all you want is things to run smoothly and you´d leave corpses in your path to get that, Mellie. You…talk of sacrifice but nobody is safe from your thirst for power."

"How dare you…"

"Defiance." He said, no, growled, interrupting her. "And then Jerry. That´s what won us the election. Crime. And betrayal. And you. Keep. Using. People." Every word now was pressed out it seemed, his face red with anger.

"Me?" she exclaimed. "Using people? After all I´ve done for you. After all the…the suffering I took for you?" She was mad with rage by now. How dare he turn things on her like that?

"Oh don´t play that card, don´t you dare." he nearly stomped his foot. Such a child sometimes, it made her even more furious.

"This photo stands for all of that, Mellie. You using me to get her back so you can use her to make your crazy world normal again."

She shook her head. "_You´re_ crazy, Fitz…you´re losing your mind…."

"No." he responded, the first word now not being yelled. "I´ve never been more clear in months, maybe years." He paused. "And speaking of using people….you remember?" He did a step closer, she shrunk back, almost against the window. "You remember that time when you made up a miscarriage to get sympathy points? Huh? Or that time when you had a baby to get another bump in the polls?" He raised his eyebrows at her. How dare he…how dare he suggest? She was so angry, so shocked she couldn´t even speak. "Because…a mother at home at night…one would expect her to be with her children. Maybe. Especially the one that´s still a toddler."

She shook her head. "Don´t you dare to bring the children into this…." Her voice was a dangerous snarl.

"Oh, like you, you mean." he said. "Like the time you threatened to leave with him. Like the times you used him for photo ops…" Fitz paused. "Like all the other times you left him with the nanny whenever he wasn´t convenient."

She felt angry and even more so, desperate. "Oh and you´ve been the perfect father?"

He shook his head. "No." he said. "But at least I never claimed I was." And with that he turned.

She could feel herself panicking, losing control. "Where are you going Fitz?" Her heart was beating fast, painful. She hated situations like these she noticed, situations where he was so damn unpredictable. He turned, raised an eyebrow at her. "The Oval." he said. "and unless you want me to turn your crappy scheme against you and leave, you´ll have moved into another bedroom when I´m back. I think I´ll be about two hours."

She just stared at him. "Oh, you wouldn´t" she snarled. "you would never just leave all of this, because no matter how weak you are at times, no matter how…childish, you need this. You need the power and you know it."

There it was again, that good feeling, that glorious feeling of triumph. She knew she was right and there she stood, head held high, waiting to read the realization of that truth in her eyes. But he, Fitzgerald Grant III just had the nerve, the impertinence to give her a childish smirk and a nonchalant shrug, his following words uttered in a brazen, infuriating calm: "Think you want to risk it? Watch me."


	18. Chapter 18 - and loss thereof

**Author´s note: I am baffled by the response to this fic, thank you everyone, it really means a lot and I´m so glad you guys keep enjoying this little story. Since I am no longer on holidays I would guess that about one chapter per week will be realistic from now on. Sorry for that. **

**Jennkyle: Hehe, thanks. I was hoping to make a good characterization of pissed off Fitz, they had it coming for quite a while.**

**Sdia75: Wow, it´s just so great to see how you´re progressing through the story and sharing your thoughts on each chapter, thank you so very much for this. :) On Jake: It was similar for me, I didn´t dislike him really, not at the beginning. That has changed but I won´t begrudge you your opinion there. To each their own ;) I can´t really tell yet how things are going to turn out for Jake, there are several options of how big the trouble is he´s currently in. My guess: it´s big trouble. On Mellie: I find her very difficult to read. An intriguing character for sure but I have the feeling she is misinterpreting her feeings towards Fitz for love. She wants that perfect marriage with a picture book president and gets frustrated and manipulated over being denied what she feels she was born for. That´s how I see it and in that the tragedy of the character would be that she is unaware of that. I btw always thought her full name was "Melanie", but scandalwiki insisted on "Melody" so that´s what I went with there.**

**LoreneMichelle41: Intriguing options and I think we both agree on this needing some time. I have a few ideas in the back of my head on that, i´ll see how it plays out eventually. **

**Guest: Agreed with Mellie being powerhungry, I think that´s what drives her. On divorce, I believe that´s more complicated than just getting it done. We shall see. **

**Cleo: Hehe, yes, that was what I was hinting at. I like seeing her I a position where she has to feel those insecurities of losing control, because I guess for someone like her that would be a nightmare.**

**Jourdan: Here you go ;) Olitz is endgame yes, as for the rest, I won´t be spoilering my own story, sorry, dear. ;)**

**Chapter 18 – And loss thereof**

Some days, Cyrus Beene wondered which evil demons had possessed him when he had decided to get in on the Grant campaign. Politics was no clean business and true power meant not being prissy about getting one´s hands dirty, he had never had any qualms about that. But that he could stand, even though he preferred to not go into details even with himself about the dreadful results such dirty work could sometimes yield. What he couldn´t stand was once more being forced into the role of what? Marriage councilor? Peace maker? Baby sitter for grown people? All of it combined most likely. Hell no, that had never been in his job description. A few threats to political opponents, a little pressure at the right points and hinges in the political machinery…_that_ was what he was good at. Not this. He had started working for a man who he believed a classical politician, the typical upbringing, pretty wife, charm … so did it really astonish him that all that Kennedy-esque flair had brought along the women as well and one in particular? Of course the First Lady in his reality did not possess the naïve demure grace of a Jacky Kennedy and just lived with the fact of her husband being a cheater. Why the hell couldn´t these kinds of affairs stay with the democrats, plain and simple? Probably because that really would have made his life insufferably easy… His stride reflected his mood as he made his way to the West Wing, feeling rather sorry that it was so late that there weren´t any interns around to yell at, because that would at least have given his frustrations some possibilities to vent.

He wondered why he even bothered, because this was probably a fool´s errand. He knew the president well enough to be certain that right now the other man would have retreated to the Oval, probably staring at a piece of art, musing about life and its shortcomings and the countless ways said life had treated him unfairly. Cyrus didn´t like it when his boss drowned himself in self pity of that kind and whereas he could to some extent understand the younger man´s moods after all that had happened, at some point there was no longer an excuse. Hell, at some point it was time to man up again! So had he!

The First Lady had stormed into his office mere minutes ago, almost hysterical, ruining what might have become a late night but a night that he was about to take home. But hey, she seemed to almost expect him to be available around midnight… Who needed more than four hours of sleep, right?

"He is totally losing it, Cyrus, I swear he is. He´s retreating from me."

He had suppressed his urge to roll his eyes at the woman. Refused the need to rub his temples in frustrations. When would those two people get their grip on things for fuck´s sake? Sometimes it was as if things were all just personal troubles for them and then it was for him to tidy up the mess, to smoothen the diplomatic waves because of course Fitz, wailing in self inflicted anguish would not think beyond rejecting an already set up phone call with the Iraqis. He had sighed.

"What now, Mellie?"

"He went to see _her_! And then he came back and yelled at me."

Cyrus had suppressed a growl. "I told her to stay away from him, how did he even know she was back?"

"What the hell does this matter right now?" She had waved away the explanation. "He just stormed out and I have no idea what he´s up to. I´m…I´m scared he´s up to something really bad." Cy looked up at her. Funny, he had thought. When other spouses, loving wives said such a thing it would be followed by elaborating or at least it would be implied that she feared her beloved might harm himself. But of course this was Mellie…

"I…I think he might actually flip and do something that harms his presidency."

"Oh like he hasn´t already." Cy had snarled, more to himself.

"I´m serious, Cy. He has threatened me with it. He says he´ll leave if I don´t….sleep somewhere else."

He had laughed a cold, sharp laugh. "Leave. Like what, sneak past the Secret Service in jeans and a university hoodie?" For some reason that had not amused her at all and he had been rewarded…or punished, with a blank look of the kind she always wore before shit was about to hit the fan. "Cy…."

He had slammed his hands flat on the desk before he had gotten up. "All right. Fine. You stay out of his way, I talk to him." _And see if I can talk some reason into this bullhead_ he had added in thought to himself.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Fitz had always thought there was something oddly calming to the nightly Oval Office. Always had been. Maybe it was because once the day ended and people went home this part actually went rather quiet. Maybe it was because the historic significance of the room, its walls having weathered more than just one crisis tended to let one´s own problems shrink into insignificance or if not quite so, at least to a manageable size, the artwork, framed in heavy gold and the silent bust of Abraham Lincoln unphased to personal turmoils and at the same time encouraging that any storm could be navigated if there was just someone steering the ship into the right direction.

Maybe that was why he had come here after he had rushed out of the Residence, slamming the door on Mellie. Maybe it was, some small voice in his head suggested, that of course a president would retreat to the place that embodied, personified his power when said power was threatened and manipulated. But who was he kidding, because he knew that in reality he had merely retreated to a room that reminded him of … her. Yet, sat in his leather chair, his heart still pumping fast from the fight he had just started and fled he knew that he had to come to terms with all things Olivia, all things _Livvie_, before he could allow and feel her calming presence in this room again. The presence not of herself but the memory. The times they had talked in the Oval Office, and all the other times they had done other things. The chemistry of those memories that had used to carry and energize him before, that night in November it had all been too much, the spell of these things past crushing, breaking like a wave and drowning him under it. What he needed was to try and pick up the pieces and, while sorting them, seeing whether they still fit, whether they still formed a picture that he liked and wanted. He felt confused, uncertain, weak, despite that empowering moment minutes ago. Seeing her again had been wonderful and painful, but he needed time. And during that time, he needed to occupy himself. At least, there was the liberating feeling that at last a process of sorting things out had been put into motion and that it would resolve itself in the end – one way or the other.

He leant back, looking up at the ceiling which, just like the carpet in front of his desk and the desk itself bore the great seal of the United States, a large bald eagle, arrows clutched in one talon, olive twigs in the other, the one representing war, the other peace, the whole image demonstrating the nation´s readiness for both but the direction the eagle´s head - turned towards the twigs – showing the preference of the latter. If only things were always as simple as symbols claimed. As simple as the credo of "Ex pluribus unum", written on a thin banner above the bird´s head. Meanwhile he, the allegedly most powerful man on the planet was even having trouble to make one out of two. How ironic that was. Yet, despite all the confusion, despite the emotional rollercoaster this evening had been he felt better than he had in days. Whereas meeting Olivia had tossed his emotions into new turmoil, yelling at Mellie, finally saying a few things that maybe he had had to say for a long while, had calmed him in a way that felt almost like a high.

Yet, it was funny, he thought when the door to the Oval was opened so quickly that it might have pulled an ordinary door off its hinges, that all these people around him apparently had issues with having him feel at peace or somewhat good at least for more than a few precious moments. He decided to not let that disturb him. Not right now. Not when he was just trying to get things back on track, not when he felt…somewhere in the vicinity of okay, still thriving on the kick it had given him to call Mellie out for exposing him like she had, with the anger about this still fuming underneath the elatedness. Fitz leant back in a pose of indifference, gazing up at the seal again. His Chief of Staff, he could hear as well as tell, was livid.

"First you throw a tantrum in the situation room, pulling off unnecessary power play with the Joint Chiefs, then you box through on your own to set up a call that would cost us precious time when we could already have bombed these ISIS assholes into oblivion," Cy was on a rampage, he could tell. Maybe, Fitz wondered, he had been practicing this little speech on the way from his office to the Oval… "and when I move heaven and earth to get that call set up without making this country look like the supplicator in this, offering to the Iraqis something they require from us and making it look like we´re asking permission…. you blow off the entire call in yet another hissy fit after a call with the woman who has been playing and toying with you and manipulating you…" The older man was panting in anger. When had he last seen him like this Fitz wondered with a calm that astonished himself… "and now for your wife who is most obviously the more sane person in this marriage and by god that means something to rush into my office minutes before midnight to stammer about you threatening her with resigning…"

"I didn´t." Again, his voice was calm and he liked that. It gave him a flair and feeling that befitted the odd mix of emotions of the moment, that dimmed anger over layered by an almost high.

"What?"

"I didn´t." Out of a whim he leant back a little more in his chair, hearing the leather creak and put his feet on the surface of the desk. Only then he met Cyrus´ gaze. The other man was staring at him, red faced, his jaw had fallen slack, open mouthed. That too, felt good and he found himself thirsting for that feel good like a man dying of thirst. Fitz shrugged. "I didn´t threaten her to resign. I just pointed out possible results of her being a bitch."

Cy´s eyes had briefly flickered to his feet, apparently for the briefest of moments wondering whether or not to call his boss out on that childish move but decided against it. "I am not here to play games, Mr President. I am here to help you lead a goddamn country, but I am not here to babysit a grown man."

Fitz had started to gently swivel his chair, but stopped at that, slowly took his feet off the table and looked at Cyrus, raising his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Usually, he knew, that tone would put almost anyone in place, even Cyrus, but the other man was too far gone in his own rampaging frustrations to let himself be intimidated. Good, Fitz thought with an inward growl.

"When you´re president of the United States there can´t be moods like that. There is more on your shoulders than just your own problems." Cy had raised his voice right away, the moment he had stepped into the office. It had stayed that way. "and I was prepared for that and still and you know damn well that I was always there to deal with the dirty work whatever it was, is and will be but hey…" There was a bitter, almost crazy laugh. "apparently I am the only person taking all of this seriously."

"Oh I know your kind of dirty work." Fitz´ voice was still calm, a lot calmer than it had been with Mellie earlier but he could tell there was a threatening undertone to it, one that wasn´t lost on his Chief of Staff either. "The kind of dirty work that makes junior aides disappear after they claim I impregnated them." He got to his feet, leaning his knuckles against the surface on his desk. "the kind of dirty work that makes reporters and questions disappear?" He believed to see Cy whince on the latter.

"Your presidency, any presidency depends on that kind of thing to happen and we both know that."

He ignored that and changed the topic to what really mattered, what he really wanted to know. "You knew she was back in town? Was that your little setup? Yours and Mellies?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Right. There are some things your nose doesn´t belong in, Cy." Now his voice was threatening, a calm, menacing undertone. It actually froze the half insane smirk on the other man´s face, the one he had chosen for the occasion of setting his boss back in line. His line. Like so often before. "I am done with the two of you telling me what to do and what not to do. I am done with you chaperoning me, Cy. I am done with the manipulation."

Cy opened his mouth, took a breath. "The manipulator in this is _her_. Nobody but _her_. Because you know why? She´s back on American soil for not even 24 hours and she´s already got you by your presidential balls again and you don´t even notice she´s playing with you!"

An hour ago this choice of words would have made him flip. Strangely now, it didn´t. Possibly because something told him that Cy expected him to. That they would yell at each other and in the end that would all be fine, things would be back to normal and the yelling would be forgotten. The disrespect would be forgotten. But not this time. He sat back down. Just looked up at him. "Cyrus, if you don´t leave this room right now, I´ll have the Secret Service help you with it."

"Fitz, you…."

"It´s _Mr President_!" this time, for the first time in the entire conversation he did raise his voice into a sharp snarl.

Silence fell. Baffled silence. A second passed. Two, loudly ticking away, commented by the large grandfather clock next to one of the even larger windows that were facing a tranquil midnight garden. "If you don´t leave now, Cy, you´ll be escorted out. And on top of that, if you don´t leave I´ll expect you to resign. No, I won´t expect it, I´ll demand it. And if you don´t believe me, ask Mellie whether I´m in the mood for jokes tonight."

It had felt good earlier to see a baffled, shocked face while a feeling of victory flooded his veins, but Fitzgerald Grant found that the feeling didn´t get old, not even when he felt it a second time in the course of an hour as his clearly shocked Chief of Staff shot him a disbelieving glare and stormed out. Yes, that indeed did feel good. He leant back, heaving a relieved sigh, reveling in the raw, bitter triumph, his head spinning form the realization of how much the people around him were eager to manipulate him into a man who was merely functioning instead of living and at the same time relieved, he had finally noticed.

After staring at the ceiling for another minute or two, he sat up again, his gaze moving to a drawer on the right side of the table. His hand moved towards it, hesitated then he opened it. There were a few papers in there, nothing important since bills and treaties were always kept in the saves unless they were on his table for consideration or signing. Just a few random things. Pens. A letter he had gotten from a veteran in the Afghan war that had been moving to him, an issue of Time Magazine in the month of his first election – after Defiance had been revealed he had stopped being proud of that and the issue had stayed almost forgotten in this drawer. But it wasn´t what he was looking for. He pushed these things aside, fingers seeking for something underneath it…and found it. The metal felt cool against his fingers as he closed them around it and took out out. He stared at it for a moment, memories flooding back, so many memories, now overlayered with doubt and bitterness but hope…somewhere, there was hope..somewhere there was a soothing feeling to the thing amidst all the Mellies and Cys. He had stored the thing away, hidden it away just like he had hoped to hide what he had felt, because it had hurt too much. He had requested another a day or two after his reelection after Mellie had insisted that the absence of a flag pin made him look unpresidential. It had felt odd. Not right.

He reached out and, after weighing it in his fingers for about a minute maybe, he grabbed the flag pin that had once been worn by Dwight D. Eisenhower and slid it into the pocket of his jeans.


	19. Chapter 19 -Off radar

**Author´s note: Things took a little longer this time but I´d guess a week to 10 days are what will become a rule of thumb for posting new chapters. The summer break is over and work is full back, it won´t work any faster. **

**Najee 79: I didn´t know about them changing Mellie´s full name . Agree on some of your observations here, they did change her around quite a bit, changing the potential she had into something more restricted even though I never really liked her. Brilliantly played but gah, the charater… On Fitz going harder on Cyrus: I wanted to create a contrast with regards to the Mellie scene in the chapter before this one. He yelled at Mellie so I decided he might be in the mood to turn on Cy in a different way mainly by showing traces of the same kind of sarcasm ad devil may care that Cyrus sometimes adapts when he is really annoyed with something. **

**Cleo: I felt it was time Fitz was acting up too, yes. On just walking into the Oval: I guess that´s not possible and I am aware of the dilemma but just assumed Cy would already have gained so much power that he´d be able to do that instead of spending chapter time on him needing to get through because if he can just do that he´d seem more powerful and menacing to Fitz who would then be given a nicer moment to shine while putting the manipulator in his face. But yep, seeing that the Secret Service would be pretty intense, I totally see your point. ;)**

**Jourdan: Thanks. And here you go. Enjoy. :)**

**Clio1792: I actually spent some time wondering, originally wanting him to get out and item that maybe he got for her just like she got him the flag pin but I couldn´t think of anything non cheesy yet significant. Thanks for the review. :)**

**Jennkyle: I´d pay to see their faces there. Let´s home something like this makes it into season 4 ;)**

**Sdia75: Again, lots of thanks for the interesting and detailed reviews and remarks. :) Oh they do have tons of chemistry. Interestingly or logically, this makes them really easy to write together. I can btw totally understand Fitz´ point of view as well. On things left unexplained on season 3: Some of the things characters did seemed to come out of the blue to me such as Olivia leaving in the end and some other things, i´d have to rewatch some to be able to say much more on this, but I sometimes felt there was a bit of a lack on exploring emotions and making them logical. Same goes for the whole Jake / Liv thing. **

**Laura: Thanks you very much for your kind words :) I thought so too, which is what inspired this fic, all the open endings and unconnected threads. I btw really like reading stuff like that someone just read the whole thing in one sitting. Thanks a lot for that. :) And I btw would have sent you a mail to tell you you´d have to wait a few days for the next chapter buuuut I couldn´t since you don´t have an account here. But here you go anyways, enjoy. :)**

**Casbru: Since I aim for a realistic depiction of emotions, I really take this as a compliment. Thank you. :)**

**Umusarah: Nope, he´s not in a joking mood there at all and that´s what makes it fun to write these chapters. Thanks for your nice words once more. Keep enjoying. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: I cannot forsee all his actions in this fic, but I do not think he will. :)**

**Missy: Thank you very much, hope you´ll enjoy this chapter as well. :)**

**Chapter 19 – Off radar**

She had given up on sleep hours ago, practically right after Fitz had left. She had taken a shower and then pretty much curled up in a somewhat miserable looking ball on her hotel bed, the television set left on more for comfort than for entertainment or a source of information, the news playing on a low volume while her mind was going this direction and that. She had tried to distract herself with it, but not only did the images of gun wielding masked men on pickup trucks, fighters of ISIS advancing further inland into Iraq, not exactly make for relaxing entertainment but also was it always easy to connect everything world news back to who she was trying to divert her thoughts from: Fitz. It made her wonder how he was handling this and whether her return and the forshadowing and aftermath had affected his way to deal with the crisis which at once plunged her back into the abyss of wondering whether it had been wise to come back. It had felt good, so good, to be in his embrace again, the familiar smell that was him, soothing, comforting despite all the things left unsaid, but didn´t the news just confirm what she had fled from? That her even being around him disrupted the usually calm, thoughtful force that was Fitzgerald Grant? That her being around him threw the man off balance which was an issue because he was not any man – he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But then again, hadn´t she vowed to herself earlier to stay away from such thoughts? Because somewhere, somehow there was the little girl in her, believing in harmony, hoping for the naïve dream of being with the man she loved and thinking away the wife, the presidency, B613 and everything else in her way and theirs. The little girl dreaming of a simple, perfect life with unfilled edges, unknown variables where so far it was just them that mattered.

Around four a.m. she switched off the television at last, noticing when she got ready for bed that she had immediately fallen into the old (sometimes reluctantly admitted) habit of having the phone Fitz had given her close at hand, on her nightstand. Glancing at it brought memories both fond and bitter, of nightly calls and closeness despite the distance and in that moment she yearned for the stupid thing to ring. There had been times where she had hated that phone and what it did to her, times where she had thrown it in the trash, where she had refused to answer it but right now all she wanted was for it to ring even though she knew it was unlikely. He had asked for time and she knew him well enough to be able to tell that he would possibly not call tonight. He had Mellie to deal with and it brought her an awkward satisfaction to know that this conversation would not be a cheerful one.

Somehow, somewhen her tired mind, exhausted from emotions and jetlag and pondering, found some uneasy sleep at last, sparing her more torment and when she woke up, her head pounding with a mild but unpleasant headache, she felt a little better even though the few hours of nightly sleep had brought her closer to a few unpleasant things at hand, things that would not be easy to deal with and first and foremost and that was what she had told herself she wanted and needed to do today was to confront her old friends at OPA…or who of them was left. That and find out what was going on with Harrison missing. She dressed in black slacks and a dark red pullover and took her coat and handbag with her to the hotel lobby, ready to face what would surely become a difficult day right after breakfast.

Entering the breakfast area which at this time of the day was inhabited by a few late risers only (it was really late for her standards, 9.30, but she allowed herself that due to the long flight), she spotted the very familiar face at once. He was sitting at the far end of the room, on a corner bench, back against the wall where he was able to survey the entire room. He didn´t raise his hand but she could tell he had spotted her as soon as she stepped in and she felt herself walk towards him and sat down, wondering whether or not to be surprised to see him here. But he had always been resourceful about these things…

"I guess I shouldn´t be surprised to see you here."

"Not at all. I was wondering what was happening."

"I just decided to come back, Dad."

She sat down on a chair opposite of him and placed her bag next to her on the floor, uncertain what to make of her father´s presence in this hotel. As she had said it didn´t really surprise her and it added one more person to the list that she´d have to deal with. On the upside however he was probably the only person who she´d not have to explain her absence to but quite the opposite – her presence.

Rowan Pope leant forward slightly, resting his upper body on his elbows as he interlinked his fingers, eyebrows raised in a slightly questioning way, head tilted to the side just a bit. "You were quite eager to leave." he said in that slightly reproachful way, not condescending, not quite, but the kind of tone he would use when he wanted to make her realize her own mistakes. "You know I was in favour of that. You know I think you´d have a shot at something healthier than this town…"

She looked straight at him, not feeling angry, not really, but determined to stand her ground. There had been a few too many fights the last 48 hours and with there being a lot more potentially around the next corner she was not intent on yet another. "Dad, I won´t discuss this with you."

"So what are your plans? You will just get back into your old routines and start where you left off?"

She gave the hint of a shrug. "It won´t be easy. I noticed my apartment is not exactly a place I can return to any more."

"When is it ever?" He ignored the reproach following her first remark and there was the trace of a smile on his face, but a wariness to it, like he was showing friendliness but not quite sure of it. She herself had a closer look at him. The last time she had seen him at the hospital, briefly after he had stubbornly dismissed himself from care. He was as stubborn as her…

"Dad, there are a few things I have to do. Things I have to do. On my own. I don´t want you to get involved."

"You cannot blame an old man looking out for a daughter."

"Look out is one thing. You know what I mean, did."

"I do." He lowered his head.

Silence fell. Liv wondered whether to get a coffee, noticing it was to get away to get some air to breathe, feeling her father´s presence at the same time constricting and strangely soothing. He was the first person not yelling at her. It gave her thoughts some rest. And they returned to her friends…halted…

"Dad?"

"Yes."

"A friend of mine has gone missing."

"Anyone I know or why would you tell me that?"

She leant back, gave him a long look. "Because I know you have your ways to get to know things. Just like you knew I was here. I thought maybe you could keep your eyes open. In case he hasn´t showed up yet. Maybe he had, maybe Harrison was already back. She was not the only one with secrets after all.

"Someone who work..s for me" she said, in the last second changing past to present tense. "Harrison Wright."

He frowned as if in thought. "You handsome black guy?" he then said with a wink

She gave him a look as if to warn him of remarks like that.

"29. Well dressed. Works for me."

"I think I remember him from when I was at your office. Bright guy."

"That´s the one."

"No, I wouldn´t know."

"Would you…"

"Yes."

A broken off sentence answered by a single word telling her about even though B613 had been dismantled old connections stayed. Making her think that if Harrison was truly gone and in trouble, her dad might be an asset to gather information. She herself was rather good at that too, not to forget.

"Thanks."

Once more silence fell. Silence during which Olivia wondered how to quickly leave. Her father had been the only she had trusted with her plans of running and leaving (apart from Jake but well…she had not exactly invited him) but she felt like there had been a lot of damage done. It was time she got to attempting to repair at least some of it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When Jake Ballard came to the first thing that came to his mind with a surprising clarity was that this was the second time in less than 24 hours that he had been knocked out deliberately. First the garage, the second time to pay for his remarks in front of Rowan Pope. _When was the last time you checked, old man?_ After that Rowan had left the room, wordlessly, but not without giving the men behind Jake´s chair a curt nod. It had been all they needed. Rowan Pope did not like to get his hands dirty and there had not been any necessity for it. Not this time. Again.

Jake groaned as the headache set in, not slowly, but with the jabbing force of a bolt of lightning. He was curled up on the stone floor, a single pillar of dusty daylight shining in from above, veiled by bars. He could feel the coppery feel of blood on his tongue and lips and he could tell as well that the latter was swollen. He furthermore guessed that the blow that had probably knocked him off his chair and which was the last thing he remembered after minutes of "lighter" yet brutal punches aimed to hurt but not to let him pass out just yet had probably left an impressive cut on his forehead, just under his scalp. He could feel the dried blood even before, still groaning, he raised his right hand to examine the by now stickily dried up gash.

He tried to sit up. It was difficult. There was more than one spot on his body that was hurting furiously, protesting his feeble attempts to change position. The room was limited maybe a little more than a dozen square feet, more bordering on two if he was lucky… and judging by how his bones gave him hell he had been out cold on the hard, uncomfortable, chilly ground for quite a while.

"Hey!" No reply. He didn´t really expect any. There was nothing really that he could expect in all this mess. He had not planned to come back, he had planned to stay away, build a new life, get away from all the craziness and soul devouring commitment that had been B613... but it had not been his idea in the first place. It had been the idea of the very man who had had him beaten bloody only … what… hours? He hoped it was not days… ago. He remembered the phone call willingly.

"You know how things went, Jake. You know how things are. I feel good about her leaving, I feel less good about her doing so alone."

"I don´t think I have a place in this. I don´t think she´d want it."

"She needs someone."

"She told me she has someone."

"We shouldn´t debate on that." A pause. "There is no lack in means. There is a house and office building in Vienna and more than enough financial means to make a new start and a really good one at that. It´s an offer Jake and I´d like it if you took it. I sent you my ideas about a salary via email."

He had had it in front of him already, all the time. It had been what he had been focused on just like his mind was focused on the other man´s words and the possibility he offered, becoming more and more interesting by the moment. He didn´t trust Rowan. He would have been naïve too. He had already decided where the top secret folders would go to. He had arranged a delivery a few days from now and by then he´d have to be out of their reach. Rosen would not go public at once. He had a few weeks he figured until he´d have to worry for his own safety over there in Europe. And meanwhile the man he would betray would arrange for safe passage. His daughter was the cherry on top. A few weeks with her, then he´d have to get moving, go into hiding, make his own connection work to permanently change his identity. But step by step.

"I´ve seen it." He had said, still looking at the printout. "I am just not sure she´d accept my company."

"Try."

The phone call had ended there and hours later he had been over at Olivia´s office, confronting her. She had never asked how he knew of her plans to leave. She had not made it a big thing at all, but she had not asked which told him that she was in an emotionally fragile state. And things had worked according to plan. Rowan´s plan. And later, his. It had become more and more difficult then, in Vienna to get familiar with the though that this had just been the starting point, that eventually he´d have to move on, get safe, with or without her and the day they had had the argument over the photos he had not yet decided… so how in the world was it possible he was finding himself in all this again? Was it because part of him realsied that there was no escape from B613 after all? A part that wondered whether Rowan Pope still played a role in this which meant that if he was lucky he could still prevent this mess. The folders he had passed on to Rosen. Could still prevent the story from leaking before the connection was made? Of course that meant David Rosen was in the way, but he knew how to deal with such issues. Or was it because he had followed her back, quite simply. Because he loved her? Love was such an insanely complicated thing, he sometimes, quite often, wished he was unaffected by it, but was he? And why was he pondering such things, there was more important issues at hands right now than romance. Such as how to save his own skin.


	20. Chapter 20 - Something s not quite right

**Author´s note: First of all my apologies for being late. I know I used to update at a quicker rate but work has me back and I can´t. However, I hope you´ll still keep reading and enjoying. Thanks for all of you that read and some that reviewed since last time. :)**

**Cleo: Hehe, so much anger. :D Evil me for doing that, but it tells me you are enjoying it in some wicked way, hopefully. Thanks for the review. :)**

**LoreneMichelle41: I agree it´s a good thing she is trying to get her life back on track, we´ll see where it leads her, it´s not going to be ease. Well, we´ll have to deal with Jake in the hole at some point in time… **

**Jennkyle: Thanks. Sorry for letting you wait so long for another update, but here you go.**

**Sdia75: Well, we´re going to get there eventually and see how things turn out that way, I am still working on figuring that out myself. All I know so far is that it is going to be a blast to write. **

**Clio1792: Thanks. :) Well, it will definitely stir up some things for her, but first she has to find out… **

**Shawnied777: Aw thank you so much. It´s always awesome to see reviews like this because if you read several chapters in a row that´s a huge compliment. :)**

**Chapter 20 – Something´s not quite right**

It was the little things. Hell be damned, always the little things, the subtle details he prided himself being good at reading that told him beyond the shadow of a doubt that trouble was afoot. That things weren´t going as he liked them to go (which was things being under safe and secure control). Looking at his boss sitting behind the Resolute Desk, Cyrus Beene knew it was one of those days, hoping it wouldn´t be another that would end in him having to pick up the pieces.

Fitz was wearing the flag pin he´d not worn for a while and Cy knew where it came from. On top of that his boss was wearing a smug, bossy self confidence along with it that Cyrus didn´t like. It meant no good, because that too meant a loss of control for the chief of staff. Well, he clearly wasn't the president of the two but goddammit, he had been the one holding things together so this man child and his overdramatic wife didn´t tear apart what he had helped building so whenever Fitzgerald Grant III wore that kind of smug confidence there were two things that clicked in Cy´s mind: 1) he had to be careful for the possible opposite, the sudden backlash and falling back into a bad mood which, because the guy was the freaking president meant it did endanger not only his mood but the wellbeing of the country and 2) that Olivia Pope was in the saddle again, having her charming, bossy, snarky influence on the man he, Cyrus Beene, had made president. He liked neither.

As the Chief of Staff was standing near the door at the main exit of the Oval Office, the one leading into the outer Oval Office where the man´s personal secretary was seated, there were three people closer to the president´s desk. One of them was the Secretary of State, wearing his usual not too fashionable dark grey suit that, as Cy thought in childish disdain at everyone and the world, the man was wearing most days. The other two was a woman in her late fourties, one of Fitz´ personal aides, the third was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"The call is scheduled for 1300 sharp, Sir. The line will be established, our translator is due to arrive at any moment and they will have theirs at the ready as well."

"Good." The president checked his watch which, as Cy knew since he had been watching both the president and the grandfather clock with a mix of tension and annoyance for the last minutes showed 10 minutes before that time. He flexed his shoulders, not even gracing Cy with as much as a glance.

"The Chief of Staff of the Air force as well as the Chief of Naval Operations are waiting in the Outer Oval, Mr President."

_Mr President_, Cy mocked in his head. The last time these two men had been in the same room, the older one had degraded the younger one with an address bereft of title. _Sir_. The spiteful part of himself almost liked that better now.

"Let´s get them in and get this started then." he pressed his intercom. "Marianne, send them in." And once more the office got a little more crowded, more than half a dozen now because the translator, a red headed woman around 40 years old had arrived with them and the small group settled on the sofas while the president remained behind the desk. He had been in this room the longest, Cy thought, seething inside, and the president had not even looked at him once, trying to ignore his presence as good as he could. But he wouldn´t have it.

"Has there been any comment from the Iraqis because the original call was cancelled?" A question coming from hurt pride, maybe a little inappropriate, but he could mask it as relevant of course. He had hoped to elict a reaction from Fitz but it was short and calm. "Postponed, Cy." he said, disarming his chief of Staff´s indirect public scolding of childish antics only two days earlier. "The Iraqis understand a changing of plans if it means gathering more support yet especially seeing that the additional time helped us verify the footage we saw two days ago. Nobody here wants to make any rash decisions on an issue as delicate and explosive such as this. Now I see we are ready, thank you for joining us, Mrs Ryan." The president´s tone stayed the same calm neutral tone, quickly talking through what was not an apology but sounded more like pointing out the obvious to a child before directly shifting his attention to the translator who had stepped forward with a broad smile, shaking his hand. "My pleasure, Mr President."

Fitz straightened up behind his desk, the image of professionalism that he had lacked for the last couple of weeks yet that coming out right now made Cy angry almost. Maybe because he knew that this attitude was built on his own humiliation. Maybe because he, Cyrus Beene, had had no part in creating it?

"All right then, lady and gentleman," Fitz said. "the connection will be made in two minutes, so I would like to ask Mr Jayden," he indicated towards the young aide of the Secretary of State, "and you, Cy, to please leave the room."

Cy could feel his blood run cold, his mouth drop open. _He was kicking him out? Cutting him out of his inner circle of confidants in this incredibly blatant manner?_ He could barely speak. "Mr. President…"

"Cy," the man´s voice was matter of fact yet slightly bemused. "this is a delicate matter that will stay in a very small circle for now. Don´t worry, I won´t start a war right away. I need Congressional approval for that anyway." In other words: none of your business Cy, you do not run this place his eyes said in that brief moment, the only moment since he had stepped in here, that he actually made eye contact. Someone, out of amusement at the Chief of Staff´s stuation or in dutiful reaction to the president´s joke, chuckled drily, making the situation even worse and more awkward. Fitz didn´t let it settle, his eyes going from the aide to Cy. "Gentlemen, if you would, please…"

"Of course, Mr President," the young aide said, turning, leaving, leaving Cyrus Beene to the incredibly humiliating moment of all eyes remaining in the room resting on him for a moment, waiting whether he would decide to be crazy enough to openly contradict the Commander in Chief. It wasn´t unheard of for chiefs of staff to be excluded from this kind of phonecall. But Fitz had never done this before. Doing it now, without the decency of telling him to not bother coming in at all, was a public shaming and Cy decided, gritting his teeth and biting his tongue that it was not worth the political suicide. "Sir." he just said curtly before turning on his heel and leaving with whatever dignity the president of the United States had left for him to pick up.

OOOOOOOOOO

She had been to this place so many times before, but never before had it ever appeared so creepy and alien to her. The mahogany table in the conference room, the stained glass windows that had served as pinboards for information regarding their cases, the smaller office rooms where they had spent many nights trying to fix things that others would have regarded beyond fixing; it all was familiar and yet it wasn´t. Because without the footfall created by high heels, without the sound of fingers tapping away on keyboards or the noise of Abby arguing against a decision she had made this place seemed merely like an empty stage – a place that, bereft of its players, became mere coulisse once more. The sign still read Olivia Pope Associates, but the heart of it seemed gone, the halls and rooms empty.

Olivia hadn´t called out when she had stepped out of the elevator. She had never done that to announce her presence anyways but for a moment she had felt tempted to. Just to see whether anyone was even there. A few moments later and a little tour through the rooms had told her that she was alone. Her steps echoing in the hallways, the coffee machine clean and unused, the window panels empty. It was disheartening.

But there was no time to wail in self pity, she had had enough of that, had spent the last weeks running from things she had believed it was best to run from but now, faced with the remains of what she had left, she was entirely unsure whether that had been a good idea. Coming back, she knew, would not be easy, but she had never really been someone to shy away from her responsibilities and that had not ended when she had left DC. Doing that had been the only right thing and even now there were two sides warring inside her, tossing things this way and that, pondering whether staying in Vienna wouldn't have been the better choice, but through it all, through all the doubts, through all the feelings of strangeness that filled these halls and to all the things she knew she would have to face, there was something that kept her anchored: _Sweet baby…_

She shook her head, not to shake off that thought, the soft rumble of his voice that went with it, the feeling of his arms holding her safe and close, but because there were other things to fix than just herself. Each of the people working for her were like family, better than family in many ways because they were handpicked, loyal to the bone because they had each gone through situations that had put them in need of a fixer and after getting out each one of these good souls, they had vowed their allegiance to her. They were her gladiators and whereas the rooms might be deserted right now, Olivia Pope knew they would always be that. Leaving them alone and walking away must have seemed like betrayal to them becazse walking out on them did not mean that it was right to do that. It did not absolve her from the responsibility of looking out for them whoever twisted this might be because if she was the scandal how was she to fix it if not by walking away from all of this? But maybe her gut had fooled her again, because it ended when things turned the way they had now. Becauce if one went missing she could not just put that off as a personal decision of that gladiator. Because she knew their every possible motive to go missing and if they went missing she would know why and if she didn´t know it meant they needed fixing. It meant they needed her.

The first thing she did, and there was just a very faint feeling of doing something some people might disapprove of without feeling she was doing something that was wrong, she went through Harrison´s office. Not without a pair of gloves of course, something she had done several times before, making sure to leave no fingerprints. If anything had happened to him, there might be clues. She started the computer and found it password protected, switched it off again. If there were any clues to that, she could be sure Huck had already found them, cracked the password at ease. There was nothing on this comuter because if it had been, she would have been told. Grudges were one thing, but Abby and her had started off on good terms the other night and if there had been any trails on Harrison, she would have told her.

She looked through the other things in his office carefully, moved things to place them back exactly where she had found them, went through binders of recent cases to see if anything was missing that she could tell, if anything seemed odd of out of place. Nothing.

A while back Huck had shown her a few things. One, and that was very useful after what she had found out about Jack was how to tell whether your phone was bugged. It turned out Harrison´s phone was not bugged but she found a small inscription under it. A number code. She first thought it went with the save that was on the wall in this very office but that would have been far too simple. Plus it had letters along with the numbers. USL-228. Next to it, two short words. "lowest drawer." It had taken her a moment to figure it out. She had found the key, not in Harrison´s lowest drawer but in hers. The rest once more was taking chanced. When she had made her way to Union Station she had not been sure. USL – Union Station Locker number 228. A guess, but a lucky one as it turned out.

The station was crowded at this time of the day but she made her way through easily enough. The key matched, it clicked and the locker opened. First she thought it was empty. But it wasn´t. there was a single piece of paper in it, folded twice. She opened it and read it with a bad feeling in her gut. It was a message, written in Harrison´s fine, neat handwriting. The message in itself was short:

_Liv_

_We have to talk. It´s about M. I am going to see your father, him or me will fill you in. If you don´t hear from me, something went wrong._

_Harrison_


End file.
